


Mostly Harmless

by emilywaters1976



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Complete, Corporal Punishment, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilywaters1976/pseuds/emilywaters1976
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, former Voldemort supporters go into indentured servitude. Snape becomes Harry's slave. That's when things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Potter-Snape Cliché Fest.

  
The platform they'd placed Severus on was about two feet off the ground and three feet in diameter, just wide enough to stand, turn around when ordered, and – not much more. The magical shields erected around it eliminated any possibility of escape.   
  
His arms had been folded behind his back, forearms tied together so that the wrist of one arm touched the elbow of the other. A short metal chain connected the bindings on his arms to the o-ring on the back of his collar. This forced an obscenely straight posture, making it impossible for him to slouch, bow his head or do any of those things that a man tended to do when placed on display before a hostile, sneering crowd.   
  
His shoulders began to ache after only half an hour of that; half a day later, his entire back was on fire and he had chewed his lower lip raw, trying not to cry out. He supposed he should have been grateful they hadn't stripped him naked, but then again, they wouldn't have, because  _they_ – the Ministry of Magic, Department of Hazardous Goods and Materials – were trying to be  _decent_  about the whole thing.   
  
Immersed in his own thoughts, Severus barely noticed his name being called out.   
  
“Severus Snape – a life-time contract for indentured servitude; bidding starts at five thousand galleons.”   
  
Silence followed. Even in spite of the ridiculously low price, nobody was interested.   
  
Some former Voldemort's followers convicted of their crimes had already gone out to their new lives as indentured servants, but those who had, had been young, pretty and female. Since Severus was none of those, he fully expected to be paraded around for a day only to be sent back to Azkaban when no one purchased him.   
  
“Anyone?” the auctioneer, a lanky, fidgety man with watery eyes, asked. Severus thought privately that the man sounded a bit too desperate. Perhaps he had a sales quota to meet. The insane thought brought a brief surge of near-amusement; Severus sneered.   
  
Someone in the crowd laughed out loud.   
  
“Just look at him! He'll poison us the first chance he gets.”   
  
Severus schooled his face into a perfectly murderous grimace, hoping it'd be enough to deter any prospective buyers.  
  
“Five thousand,” the familiar voice was heard and Severus shuddered inwardly, but couldn't help looking. He saw Potter's face in the crowd.   
  
Snape found himself short of breath then. He hadn't expected to see Potter here.   
  
He didn't know what exactly had gone on, why Potter hadn't spoken on his behalf once the trials began. Severus raged and raved at first, but now, five months later, his fury had turned to something akin to bitter resignation.   
  
Severus had been a fool to think that Potter would defend him. The animosity of seven years couldn't possibly be erased by a single revelation, no matter how dramatic. Also, somehow, there was a cruel sense of justice in being let down in such a nasty manner by Potter, of all people. The final payment for all of Severus' transgressions, because, apparently, the universe decided he hadn't paid  _enough_.   
  
“Will I hear five and a half?” The auctioneer called out.   
  
No other bids were made, and a moment later Severus Snape was sold – to Potter – for the laughable sum of five thousand galleons.   
  


* * *

  
  
The shields around the platform were taken down and Potter grasped the short chain that connected Severus' collar to the bindings on his arms.   
  
“Walk,” Potter said in a perfectly calm voice, giving him a small push.   
  
Severus struggled to obey, but every step in this 'box tie' bondage was agony that shot from the nape of his neck all the way down to his lower back. Still, he managed to walk without making a sound, and, when pushed down to kneel, he didn't fall.   
  
The auctioneer spoke, Potter listened.   
  
“The conditions are simple: the contract may not be annulled, you may not set him free, although you may sell him or gift him to someone else, if you so desire. He is your property, however, the collar remains the property of the Department of Hazardous Goods and Materials. You may not and will not be able to remove it. For your safety, his collar is charmed to block his magic at the point of action, suppress the centers of his brain responsible for Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as prevent any physical harm he intends to cause you. Also, for your safety, the Ministry will continue to keep track of the servants; the collar will inform the Department of Hazardous Goods and Materials if something goes wrong.”   
  
“Something goes wrong,” Potter mused. “Like what?”   
  
“You see,” the tip of the auctioneer's wand touched Severus' collar, “it is charmed to respond to his mental state. The device will be activated and inform us of any action of his aimed at escaping, harming you or angering you. If he isn't punished for that action, the Ministry will repossess him.”   
  
Severus couldn't see Potter's face, but he could sense his surprise.   
  
“Why is it any business of yours whether I punish him or not? I paid for him, didn't I? Can't I do what I want with him?”   
  
“This is for your own safety,” the auctioneer responded smoothly. “Everyone's safety, actually. The former Voldemort supporters who go into indentured servitude are classified as Hazardous Goods. We don't want a situation arising where the servants find a way to intimidate or control their owners. If the misbehavior isn't dealt with appropriately, the Ministry will have no choice but to assume that you are not able to control your servant and we will have to take action.”   
  
“I see,” Potter muttered. “Well, I suppose, that's understandable,” he conceded reluctantly. “Have there been problems so far?”   
  
“None. You understand, the punishment doesn't need to be excessively cruel,” the man continued, “as long as it is physical, sufficiently painful and humiliating...”   
  
“Fine,” Potter said, apparently uninterested in arguing. “Let me see the contract.”   
  
Severus cast a long glance at Potter, who read the document slowly, carefully. Eventually the paper was signed, and Potter nudged Severus' shoulder, urging him to rise.   
  
“Do you require assistance escorting him home?” the auctioneer asked.   
  
“No. We'll be fine.”   
  
“All right. Should you require any help, feel free to call on us. Your safety is very important to us.”   
  
“No need to be concerned,” Potter replied coolly, giving Snape a brief once-over. “I imagine I'll be quite safe with him. He seems to be mostly harmless.”   
  
Severus barely managed to hold back a reply. Then he felt Potter's hand on his shoulder, urging him to get up.   
  
“We're going home,” Potter said.  
  
Severus didn't offer a response, but it seemed that Potter hadn't expected any. The familiar twist-and-pull sensation of Apparition came a moment later.   
  


* * *

  
  
They Apparated to a quiet suburban London neighborhood. Severus looked around: they were standing near a two-storey house, in a yard enclosed by a tall fence. A narrow paved path led from the gate to the front door. The flowerbeds on each side of the path were in disarray, soil upturned, a lonely rose bush here and there sticking out defiantly, each looking like it'd just barely survived a natural disaster of some sort.  
  
A tall thicket of greenery along the fence did an admirable job of concealing the yard and everything in it from outsiders' view. Severus didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried that his humiliation was a completely private affair.   
  
Potter walked ahead, leading the way to the house. Severus followed closely and waited, while Potter fumbled with the key, opened the door and muttered a quiet 'come on in'.   
  
Once inside the house, Severus looked around again, taking in his surroundings. A small dimly lit hallway connected with a spacious sitting room.   
  
Potter's place was not just  _messy_  – it gave the impression of belonging to someone whose entire  _life_  was a mess. The tall bookshelves along the walls had some books, rolls of parchments and stacks of papers, heaped and flat-filed without any obvious order or system. Coffee cups and crumpled napkins here and there completed the picture.   
  
The large dining table and the four chairs around it were piled with parchments as well. The only item of furniture clear of papers and parchments was the large blue couch on the other end of the room; instead of papers, the couch was giving home to a pillow, a blanket and a couple of dirty plates.   
  
“Well, Potter, now I certainly understand why you decided to take advantage of the Ministry's slave-trading initiative,” Severus drawled humorlessly. “Drove your house elf to suicide, did you?”   
  
The corner of Potter's mouth twitched ever so slightly, but Potter didn't laugh. With a quick flick of the wand he cleared the table and the chairs, banishing the parchments to the top of the bookshelf. Severus didn't have a chance to take a good look at them.  
  
“Hold still,” Potter said, aiming his wand at Severus. A moment later the bindings vanished from his arms.   
  
Being released from bondage was almost more painful than continuing to endure it. A fresh jolt of scalding-hot agony shot down from the nape of his neck all the way down to his lower back.   
  
Severus sensed rather than felt his arms dropping to his sides; some part of his brain continued to insist they were still twisted out of shape behind his back.   
  
Potter sat down and pointed to a vacant chair across the table from him. Severus sat down as well and found himself wincing; just about every muscle in his back protested the day's mistreatment. He did his best to hold very still: as long as he didn't move at all, sitting down was almost bearable.   
  
“First things first,” Potter said. “How are you feeling?”   
  
“Fine.”   
  
“Are you in pain?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Thirsty? Hungry?”   
  
“No.”   
  
His throat was parched; he hadn't eaten since last night, and he wasn't certain why he was denying the obvious. The simple stupid truth of his situation was that eventually he'd have to eat Potter's food, drink Potter's water, and sleep on Potter's furniture.   
  
If Potter was surprised by his answers, he gave no indication of it.   
  
“All right,” Potter said. “Let's get to the point, shall we? Would you like to be free again?”   
  
Severus found himself short of breath. He hadn't expected Potter to bring up that issue on his own, definitely not in such a direct way. He didn't want to give voice to his desire, expecting a nasty trick of some sort. He lifted his eyes and studied Potter's face, but, thanks to the collar, Potter's mind was off limits to him. Still, Potter's face held no sign of deception, not as far as Severus could tell.   
  
“Answer me,” Potter insisted.   
  
“Yes,” Severus hissed. “I want to be free.”   
  
Potter nodded, clearly pleased by this admission.   
  
“In that case, there's hope. I propose a deal, Snape.”   
  
“What kind of deal?” Severus asked very cautiously.   
  
“You will accept your position as my slave for the next two months. You will not try to escape or take this house apart with your bare hands. You will not go out of your way to make me miserable and you will not harass my friends. You will do your best to obey me. I don't expect perfection, but I expect effort. If you misbehave to the point of setting off your collar, I will punish you, and you will submit to punishment without much fuss. If you agree to these terms and manage to abide by them, in two months I will request an appeal for your case. I will speak on your behalf in Wizengamot and you will go free. Heck, you might even get some sort of award for your part in the war, though, given the current political climate, I wouldn't count on it, if I were you.”   
  
It sounded almost too good to be true. Severus stared at him.  
  
“What if I don't agree?”   
  
Potter shrugged. “I don't see why you wouldn't. It's a better deal than spending a lifetime as my slave, isn't it?”   
  
“Why should I trust you? Why should I believe that you will hold up your end of the bargain?”   
  
Potter seemed prepared for his questions, almost as if he'd rehearsed this conversation.  
  
“You've got nothing to lose by giving it a try. Plus, as much as I hate to belabor the obvious, you don't really have a viable alternative.”   
  
Severus had to concede that Potter had a point. Still, the idea of such an agreement was demeaning, perhaps even more so than being sold to Potter.   
  
“You know I'm innocent – of the crimes they'd convicted me of,” Severus whispered. “You know I was on your side.” Potter nodded firmly without even a moment's hesitation. “Then why are you doing this? What is the point of this ridiculous two-month deal?”   
  
This time Potter looked away and took a second to collect his thoughts before replying.   
  
“Maybe I'm doing it because I can,” Potter said very coolly. “Or maybe because I'm still a bit peeved that you you've always demanded obedience and following the rules, and I somehow don't think you're capable of it yourself. Consider this an experiment.”   
  
Severus lowered his eyes. Potter's response didn't exactly shock him. Severus could easily believe that everyone's favorite hero would stoop to being so petty and vindictive.  
  
“That's not a very nice thing to do,” Severus pointed out.   
  
“No,” Potter agreed with a small smirk. “It isn't. Then again, I'm not a very nice person.”   
  
“You realize I will never forgive you for this,” Severus said.   
  
He didn't know why he felt the need to say that. Still, it was mildly rewarding to see Potter startled by those words. For a second he looked almost upset, but then quickly shook his head.   
  
“It doesn't matter,” Potter said flatly. “Do we have a deal?”   
  
“Yes,” Severus said. Two months, he could do two months, he thought desperately.   
  
“Good. Are you sure you aren't hungry or thirsty?”   
  
“I'm sure.”   
  
“And you're sure you aren't hurt?”   
  
“I'm fine. Thanks for asking.” Because, any deals or agreements aside, there was no way he would admit to being  _hurt_.   
  
Potter gave him a long, calculated look, but didn't press the issue. “Very well. You may now go upstairs and settle yourself in. Take a shower, get changed, then sleep or – do whatever. You can come down for dinner in two hours if you get hungry.”   
  
“All right. Fine.”   
  
“Any questions?” Potter asked.   
  
“I imagine you have more than one bedroom upstairs,” Severus said. “Which one of them is mine?”   
  
Potter gave him a wry smile.   
  
“I think you'll know yours when you see it.”   
  


* * *

  
  
Slowly, Severus walked upstairs. Somewhat unsteady on his feet, he attempted to grab hold of the handrail. Just as soon as he made a move to lift his hand, the back pain returned with a vengeance. This time it felt as if his entire upper body had been caught in a fiery web, all muscles, ligaments and joints aflame. He allowed his arms to drop limply at his sides and continued to walk.  
  
Severus found 'his' bedroom without any difficulty – there were only three doors on the second floor of the house. The first was a shower that he'd presumably be sharing with Potter. The second room, with the door slightly ajar, was small and messy, and clearly Potter's territory. The bedroom at the end of the hallway, the door wide open, was spacious, bright and so spotlessly clean it could have been a hotel room. Cherry-red hardwood floor was shining with fresh varnish, the bedside table was clear of clutter. The bed itself was neatly made, with a stack of fluffy towels resting in the center of it. There was even a mint on the pillow.   
  
A large trunk had been placed by the wall; a note, ' _S. Snape - personal effects_ ' scribbled on it, was attached to the trunk by Spellotape.   
  
Apparently, Potter intended for him to be comfortable here, but for some reason this realization only served to irritate Severus further. His first inclination was to break something, kick something. He took a deep breath and held back. Two months, Severus thought desperately, he could do two months without antagonizing Potter.   
  
He thought of taking a shower, of changing into fresh clothes – his shirt and trousers were covered in dust and drenched in sweat. But his back still hurt with every move, and the weariness of the day was beginning to catch up with him. Without undressing or taking his boots off, Severus fell on the bed face down and cursed Potter under his breath. Sleep came mere moments later.   
  


* * *

  
  
He woke up a couple of hours later from the sound of someone knocking on the door. For the first few moments he couldn't remember where he was; he only knew that it wasn't Azkaban anymore, because nobody knocked on the doors  _there_. Then he remembered everything: being sold to Potter, making the two-month deal with Potter... Severus almost groaned out loud.   
  
Potter (presumably) knocked on the door again. Severus buried his face in the pillow and made no sound. Maybe he could just wait Potter out and... Potter would leave him alone.   
  
No such luck.   
  
“I'm going to come in and check on you,” Potter announced.   
  
“Don't bother,” Severus muttered into the pillow. He doubted Potter had heard him.   
  
The wooden floor squeaked, announcing Potter's arrival. Severus didn't turn his head and didn't open his eyes, but he could almost feel Potter's stare.   
  
“You didn't shower. You didn't come down for dinner.”   
  
“Not hungry,” Snape said, trying his best keep the hostility in his voice down to the bare minimum.   
  
“You're hurt,” Potter said. It wasn't a question this time, and Severus didn't offer a reply. “How bad?”  
  
“I'm fine.”   
  
Severus felt the bed incline when Potter sat down next to him.   
  
“All right, look, I am not going to argue with you about this all night,” Potter said. “I'm giving you three options. We can go to St. Mungo's. I can firecall Madam Pomfrey and get her to come over and see you. Or I can treat you myself.”   
  
The 'three choices' speech sounded very much like what someone would say if they were dealing with a recalcitrant child. Severus muttered a heartfelt obscenity under his breath.   
  
“I didn't quite hear you,” Potter said.   
  
“I don't need anything. Let me be.”  
  
“If you don't make a choice, I will do it for you,” Potter informed him. “The default option is going to St. Mungo's.”   
  
“No!” Severus snapped at once. The thought of being paraded around the Wizarding Britain with his collar on was mortifying to say the least. The thought of being seen by a former colleague in this state was intolerable. Which left him with... Potter.  
  
“Then what will it be? Madam Pomfrey?” Potter asked, still calm. Severus was mildly surprised by Potter's ability to hold his temper in check. Then again, Potter had all the power, and there was no need for him to throw tantrums, Severus thought sourly.   
  
“No Pomfrey,” Severus muttered.   
  
“All right.”  
  
Potter got up and left the bedroom. Severus remained face down on the bed, waiting and entertaining the ridiculous hope that Potter would just get distracted by something and forget about him. Potter didn't, of course, and returned a few minutes late to sit on the edge of the bed. Severus turned his head and opened his eyes to stare at him. Potter had a jar with an ointment of some sort in his hands and a fleecy blanket tucked under his arm. For a long minute, Potter studied him, as one studies a dangerous animal to work out the best plan of attack.   
  
Severus turned away from Potter and closed his eyes.   
  
A part of him still didn't believe that Potter would go through with any action that required  _touching_  him, and he couldn't help but flinch in surprise when Potter's hand reached for the nape of his neck, palm resting against the metal band of the collar.   
  
“Going to spell your shirt off,” Potter warned him. Severus shivered when he felt the cool air of the room on his inflamed skin. A few moments later, Potter's fingers, sleek with ointment, ran along his back, pausing tentatively whenever Severus flinched at the contact.   
  
He should have probably felt angered and humiliated by all this, but right now, the only emotion left was bewilderment. If Potter's intent had been to embarrass, he certainly was going about it in a very strange way. After all, the physical contact must have been just as unpleasant for him, as it was for Severus...  
  
Except, it wasn't all  _that_  unpleasant. Potter's hands were rubbing the ointment into his back in soothing circular movements, applying just the right pressure, half-forcing and half-coaxing the muscles to relax. The ointment was doing its work, too: the malignant fire in Severus' back had turned into a pleasant warmth, giving the sensation of muscles and ligaments being mended.   
  
He wasn't certain how long Potter worked on his back, shoulders and upper arms, but it didn't seem all that long. Once done, Potter drew the blanket he'd brought over Severus' shoulders and jumped off the bed.   
  
“You hungry? Thirsty?” Potter asked one more time. Severus barely had the energy to shake his head; he was about to drift off again, except this time, he could do so without feeling like his entire body was twisted into a knot. “Good night then,” Potter said quietly, peacefully. Then, he left.   
  
Severus stretched out and kicked off his boots; they each fell to the floor with a soft thud. His last thought before falling asleep was that he should really be angry with Potter, but he could no longer remember why. 


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning Severus woke up feeling hungry, thirsty, grungy and in need of shower, but surprisingly well-rested. He opened the trunk by the wall and rummaged through it, inspecting what he had. His clothes from Hogwarts were there, as well as some of his books. Nothing else. He sighed, picked up a towel that he'd kicked off to the foot of the bed at night, got a change of clothes out of the trunk and walked off to shower. He tried to avoid dwelling on the humiliation of the auction of the day before, or on the inescapable fact that he was now Potter's property, and his future freedom (two months less one day away) fully depended on Potter's benevolence.   
  
When he came out of the shower, the door to Potter's bedroom was slightly ajar, and some quiet noises could be heard from the kitchen downstairs. Smell of fresh coffee was in the air, and Severus made his way down. It'd been five months since his last cup of coffee, or, perhaps, longer.   
  
He could be stubborn and refuse Potter's food, but his resolve ended where coffee was concerned.   
  
In the kitchen, Potter greeted him with a friendly smile and offered him a large mug.   
  
“Help yourself,” Potter made an indeterminate gesture to point towards the coffee pot, creamer and the sugar bowl on the kitchen counter. A small basket of croissants was resting near the coffee pot and Severus picked out one of the pastries. Potter did the same.   
  
“Slept well?”   
  
“Yes,” Severus replied stiffly, sitting down at the kitchen table.   
  
“Is your room okay? Do you need anything?”   
  
“The room is fine. I don't need anything,” Severus said, the awkwardness continuing to grow.   
  
Potter and he were not screaming at each other or being nasty to each other, and he supposed it was a good thing. Still, Severus found that heat was rising to his cheeks: the awareness of his position colored every word that passed between him and Potter.   
  
“Potter, I need to ask you something,” Severus tried, trying to make his voice as neutral as possible. “I noticed that you had brought some of my books from Hogwarts. The books on Dark Arts are missing. What happened to them?”   
  
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Potter bowed his head.   
  
“They were destroyed. The... um... the Ministry is going a bit crazy these days. Lots of fear-mongering, you know. They are destroying books, artifacts... buildings, even.”   
  
“What?” Severus repeated. A small shiver ran down his spine.   
  
“Uh-huh. They've burned Malfoy Manor a few months back. You know. Said they didn't want anything that'd hosted Voldemort to be left behind.” Potter sighed tiredly. “Stupid, really. Though I guess I understand them, in a way. I don't agree with what they're doing, but I understand being afraid.”   
  
“Really?” Severus quipped. “Somehow I doubt that. You never seemed to have any fear. Or caution. Or common sense.” For a second he wondered if he'd said too much and whether Potter was going to try to 'punish' him. Severus braced himself for a fight, but Potter didn't seem offended.   
  
“Well, I was afraid – during the last confrontation with Voldemort. Not afraid of dying,” Potter clarified, “afraid of – well... no, I don't know how to explain it.” Potter shook his head in frustration.   
  
Severus stared at him. Potter's expression was confused, miserable.   
  
“Tell me about it,” Severus offered.   
  
“I'm sure you've heard all about it,” Potter muttered.  
  
“I've heard some. Not all. You may remember I haven't had access to reliable news sources lately,” Severus pointed out.   
  
“I guess you're right,” Potter conceded. “Well – it – really, the confrontation in the Great Hall was rather anticlimactic. I mean – there he was, Voldemort, pointing his wand at me. And – well, for a brief moment there, I wanted to tell him everything. That, really, he'd destroyed his own soul fragment that had been living in me. That you'd been Dumbledore's man all along. All of that. I wanted to offer him a chance to stand down, to...” Potter shrugged awkwardly, “repent, I guess.”   
  
“You didn't.”   
  
“No. See, I was about to – then I got scared. What if he did – stand down? Repent? I mean – I wouldn't have been able to kill him, then, but... I don't know; what would we do with him? The thought of him continuing to be around... well, it was kind of scary, you know? So... I didn't say anything at all. I just waited for him to cast the Killing Curse on me. It rebounded, just like I knew it would. And he died. And that was all.”   
  
“I see,” Severus mused. “Interesting.”   
  
“Uh-huh.”   
  
They finished the coffee and the croissants in silence. Severus surveyed the kitchen, then turned around in his chair to cast a glance back at the living room. It had been tidied up; the shelves looked more orderly now and the empty coffee mugs were gone. Almost as if Potter had been embarrassed of the mess... which, of course, was ridiculous; Severus didn't for a moment think his opinion mattered to Potter one way or another.   
  
“So,” Severus breached the ensuing silence, “what would you like me to do for you, Potter?”   
  
“Mm?” Potter seemed startled by this question.   
  
“You've spent five thousand galleons on me,” Severus said. “Surely, you had something in mind? So let me ask this again: what would you like me to do for you?”   
  
He could sense that something had changed in the air just as soon as he'd asked that question. The fragile feeling of near-camaraderie that had began to establish itself between them was now gone without a trace. Potter's face acquired an unreadable expression. He stared at Severus thoughtfully.  
  
“Interesting question. What would  _you_  like to do for me?”   
  
“Nothing,” Severus replied at once, staring back at Potter.   
  
Potter's lips curled upwards to form a wry smirk.   
  
“What an excellent idea, Snape. I think you should get started on that right away.”   
  


* * *

  
  
'Nothing' it was then, for the next two weeks. Potter avoided him altogether, leaving the house early in the morning and returning late at night. He didn't even come upstairs; Severus could hear him moving about in the sitting room, pacing, sorting through scrolls, and eventually settling down to sleep on the couch.   
  
Severus spent the days in Potter's home on his own. There was food, there was water. Severus knew he was lucky to be here, but he didn't feel lucky, not exactly. This was immeasurably better than Azkaban, but, in a way, more frustrating, too. Azkaban had been something definite, with clear boundaries.  _This_ , his current situation was vague, unclear, fuzzy. He had no tasks, no roles to play, no places to go. The borders of his world were defined by the walls of Potter's home and nothing  _more._    
  
More to the point, his new-found isolation was self-imposed. The Floo was unblocked, but he didn't know who he would firecall. Who indeed? Slughorn? Minerva? Hagrid? He found himself approaching the Floo several times a day, but each time, his face would flush with embarrassment and he'd stop.   
  
He read, he wrote, he exercised. He stared out of the window, counting days, hours and minutes. A couple of times he wandered downstairs late at night to pick a fight with Potter just out of sheer boredom, but each time Potter simply got up and left the house without saying a word. Eventually, Severus learned his lesson: if he wanted to speak to Potter, he would have to be calm, civilized. He felt like a dog being trained and it galled him that he was  _giving in_.   
  
“I'd like to speak to you,” Severus said one of those mornings, barely managing to catch Potter on his way out.   
  
“Go on,” Potter stopped in the doorway, waiting.   
  
“I would like to – go outside.”   
  
“Sure,” Potter agreed instantly. “Where to? Diagon Alley? Hogsmeade? Muggle London? Manchester?”   
  
The images, conjured by Potter's offers, sped through Severus' mind so quickly he was almost made dizzy by the possibilities. Only a moment later he realized that he  _couldn't._  Couldn't go to any of those places, because he couldn't stand being seen  _like this_ , on Potter's leash, by anyone who'd ever known him.   
  
“Nothing that drastic,” Severus said dryly. “I'd like to go out into your garden. Possibly, do some work – prune your jungle.”  
  
“What? I don't have a jungle.”   
  
“You've got a post-apocalyptic waste land surrounded by a jungle.”   
  
“It's not that bad,” Potter denied with a shrug.   
  
“If it gets any worse, the Muggle government will be forced to send in the troops to rescue the survivors.”   
  
Potter poked his head out of the door and surveyed the garden. Arms folded on his chest, Severus waited.   
  
“I guess it is pretty bad,” Potter agreed reluctantly. “All right, what do you need?”   
  
“Gloves and pruning shears to start.”   
  
“I've got that somewhere,” Potter muttered, heading back into the house. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus watched Potter open the cupboard under the sink and pull out the items in question. “Here,” Potter said, returning and depositing the shears and the gloves into Severus' hands. “I'm going now. Have fun.”   
  
Severus gave no reply. Potter departed, walking down the narrow paved path and through the gate. A crack of Disapparition was heard a moment later. For a few minutes, Severus simply stood on the porch, looking up into the clear sky. Then, he began to work on subduing the 'jungle'.  
  


* * *

  
  
It was a warm September morning, sunny and not a cloud in the sky. Severus removed his robe and folded it, allowing it to rest on the edge of one of the flower beds.   
  
He ended up not using the gloves after all; it was more comfortable to hold the garden shears with his bare hands. He didn't mind the scratching of the branches against his fingers, or the tickling of the leaves; it felt refreshing. He set a steady pace for himself, and soon, his hands moved automatically. His mind continued to race.   
  
Not surprisingly, he was thinking about Potter. Until this morning, they hadn't spoken since that one conversation a week ago, and Severus was surprised to realize how much he was still irked by what Potter had said.   
  
Potter had said that he wouldn't have been able to kill Voldemort had the monster repented; but, obviously, he saw nothing wrong with punishing Severus. Even though this 'punishment' was no serious hardship and of temporary nature (if Potter were to be trusted), the mere thought was appalling.   
  
But that wasn't all. After hearing Potter talk about the political situation in the Wizarding Britain, Severus found himself doubting that Potter's intercession on his behalf would be  _enough_. He tried telling himself that it would have to be, but the doubts continued to linger.   
  
Severus swore out loud when, distracted, he'd let the shears slip. The blade struck against the fence and the old wooden boards squeaked plaintively. Severus found himself stilling as a desperate, insane thought crossed his mind. Afraid to give in to it just yet, he pushed through the thicket of the shrubs to get to the fence and stared through the crack between the wooden boards. He saw another house, a Muggle home, he presumed, a garage nearby.   
  
He lifted his hand to his throat and touched the metal collar, encircling his neck. He was reasonably certain it was charmed against being removed with a simple Relashio or Alohomora (even if a sympathetic wizard were willing to cast that spell), but he wondered if the Wizarding device would recognize something so simple as a Muggle file-tool attempting to cut through it. It was a long shot, but sometimes wizards were ridiculously blind to the obvious, and... it just seemed  _wrong_ not to give it a try, no matter how small the chance of success.   
  
Severus grasped the garden shears in his right hand and quickly assessed the distance between Potter's fence and the Muggle garage. The plan was simple enough: cut through the neighbor’s yard, break into the garage, look for a suitable tool – and then... Severus tried not to think too much about how long it would actually take him to work through the metal of the collar with the file, or how many things could go wrong with this plan.   
  
He pushed the wooden boards of the fence apart, creating a gap between them. Tentatively, he began to make his way into the neighbor’s yard when he felt an odd tingling around his neck. The magic of the collar was doing something, and at first, he couldn't tell what exactly.   
  
He tried to backtrack, return to Potter's garden and found himself unable to move at all. He was immobilized, frozen in one spot, presumably to await Potter's arrival.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

Severus didn't have to wait long; Potter returned shortly. As soon as he walked through the gate, Severus found himself being able to move once more. He pulled himself back out of the gap between the boards of the fence and straightened out.   
  
“What were you doing?” Potter demanded. “The tracking charms on your collar informed me that you were trying to escape.”   
  
Severus didn't dignify him with an answer. For a long time, Potter stared at him, as if trying to decide what to do.   
  
“Come on,” Potter said eventually, leading the way back home. Severus didn't move. Already at the door, Potter turned around. “I'm not joking, Snape. You're either going back into the house on your own two feet, or I'm carrying you in. The choice is yours.”   
  
Severus threw the garden shears onto one of the flowerbeds; they implanted into the ground with a satisfying  _thwack._  
  
Cursing under his breath, Severus followed Harry into the house and into the sitting room.   
  
Harry sat down on the couch and pointed to a chair near the dining table. Severus hesitated for a moment, then sat down as well.   
  
“What the fuck?” Potter asked, sounding frustrated more than anything. “Six weeks, Snape! You couldn't wait six weeks?”   
  
Severus didn't answer.   
  
“No, honestly, what were you thinking? This was beyond stupid! You've been told that the bloody collar responds to your mental state, and there are tracking spells on it, too! You had no chance at all!” Potter sounded more and more frustrated by the minute. “Well, answer me!”   
  
“I knew it was a long shot. I had to try,” Severus said simply, unapologetically.   
  
Potter seemed to be taken aback by his response. For a while, he was silent, appearing to process Severus' words.   
  
“I suppose you did,” he conceded eventually. “But there are consequences to trying something like this and not succeeding.”   
  
“I don't care.”   
  
He really didn't. Potter could do whatever he wanted with him, but even a full-scale Cruciatus wouldn't be enough to make him regret his escape attempt, no matter how foolhardy.   
  
Potter nodded to acknowledge his words. “All right. Fine. This will make what I have to do a bit easier then.”   
  
Severus fully expected Potter to reach for his wand, but he did no such thing. Instead, without rising from the couch, Potter unbuckled the belt on his trousers and pulled it out, folding it in his hands.   
  
Severus stared at him. “You can't be serious.”   
  
Potter stared back.   
  
“I will not agree to this. You're so desperate to hurt me, Potter? Fine. Pick another method. Use an Unforgivable. Break my arm. Take away meals.”   
  
Potter shook his head. “I couldn't do that,” he said mildly.   
  
Severus glared at the belt in Potter's hands. “Well, you most certainly are not – doing  _that_  – to me either.”   
  
Potter sighed tiredly. “Look, I'm not exactly thrilled about this myself, but it's not like you've left me much choice. You know the rules of the game. The Ministry tracks all serious misbehavior. They will take you away from me if I don't deal with this myself.”   
  
Severus knew Potter wasn't making it up. He himself could still feel the persistent tingling from his collar continuing to inform him that he was still not off the proverbial hook. But... to be punished by Potter? Even in his worst nightmare, Severus had never imagined that it might come to something like this.   
  
“I don't care about the Ministry!” Severus found his voice rising. “Let them take me away then! You hear me? This ridiculous deal is off. Send me back to Azkaban! This is  _my_  choice!”   
  
Potter kept his cool. “I won't let you make this choice. In fact, you've got only two choices. You will either comply on your own, or I will force the issue.” Potter paused and watched him, as if trying to gauge the effect his words had on Severus. “You will drop your trousers and underwear, then bend over the chair. If you do not, then I will restrain you, put you over my lap and you will get a hand spanking. The choice is entirely yours.”  
  
Severus felt heat rising to his cheeks. He shook his head, still not quite believing what was about to happen. He could see that Potter was serious, but he kept thinking there had to be some other way out of  _this_.   
  
Potter reached for his wand and pointed it at him. A spell was about to fall from Potter's lips when Severus stood up abruptly. Potter lowered his wand, waiting.   
  
“Why are you doing this?” Severus whispered bitterly, desperately. “Why not just... let me go back?”   
  
Potter rose to his feet and came to Severus so that they were face to face.   
  
“Because it's too risky,” Potter said flatly. “What if someone else takes you? Someone who actually  _does_  want real revenge, someone who will  _really_  hurt you? I won't let you ruin your life over some stupid thing that you did.”  
  
Something about Potter's words struck a chord with him in a surprising way. For a very brief moment Severus was almost ready to believe that Potter wasn't just doing this for kicks, that he really felt responsible for Severus' life – but that was clearly implausible and Severus dismissed that thought. He almost felt a sense of loss when he did, because – had someone really cared for him  _that_  way, he might have been tempted to actually yield.  
  
Potter's forceful voice interrupted his unhappy ruminations. “Snape. Now. Let's get this over with. Please.”   
  
Severus let out a deep breath. His entire face was burning with shame, but he couldn't bear the thought of going over Potter's lap, either. With one desperate move, he turned away, undid his trousers and pulled them down along with the underwear. He bent over the back of the chair, resting his palms on the wooden seat.   
  
Potter's hand touched Severus' lower back, lifting his shirt up to expose him further. Severus bit into his lower lip, trying his best not to think what exactly he looked like to Potter right now. He simply remained motionless, waiting for  _it_  to begin, trying to not humiliate himself further by bringing his knees together or twitching or shaking.   
  
Potter took a step back. When the belt struck for the first time, it hurt more than Severus had thought it might. Still, with the pain came a relief of sorts, because  _it_  was happening, it couldn't get any worse than  _this_. He sucked in a furious breath and bit into his lower lip, determined that he wouldn't make a sound.   
  
Potter struck out again and again; it seemed he was putting his back into each blow; with each lash Severus felt his buttocks coming aflame. In spite of his best efforts, he couldn't hold completely still: his hips bucked, moved from side to side in an automatic attempt to evade further blows and shake off that burning sensation. With every involuntary twitch or flinch he became more and more aware of an odd, twisting kind of warmth in his lower belly and his groin. He almost groaned out loud in frustration when he recognized the symptoms for what they were: arousal. Absolutely horrified that Potter might notice, Severus held as still as he could.   
  
Potter's belt fell several more times, laying new lashes across the already formed welts. Severus bucked again; this time his groin pressed against the back of the chair.   
  
Then he realized it was over. Severus continued to stand bent over that blasted chair, with his welted arse on display, just so that his erection would remain hidden. Potter came up to him; a moment later Severus felt Potter's hand resting on his lower back. Severus flinched at the touch and bit into his lower lip, both dreading and wishing for that hand to slide down just a bit more.   
  
“Snape,” Potter called out to him. “Will you run again?”   
  
Severus gulped; the heel of Potter's hand resting against the small of his back was driving him insane. Irrationally, he feared that the throbbing in his cock was reverberating through his entire body and Potter would notice.   
  
“Snape!” Potter's tone got sharper, more forceful. “Answer me!”   
  
It took Severus a while to find his voice.   
  
“No. I won't run again.” He spoke bitterly, resignedly and could barely hear his own words. He was almost certain that Potter wouldn't hear them and he'd be required to repeat them. But Potter's hand abandoned Severus' lower back and rested on his shoulder a moment later.  
  
“It'll be all right,” Potter said softly. “Everything will be all right.”   
  
Severus didn't know what to make of that. Then, Potter left him alone. Severus heard the sound of the retreating footsteps, and the door opened and slammed shut; Potter had walked out of the house.  
  
Slowly, tentatively, Severus straightened out. His back ached again, his buttocks were on fire, and... the stupid truth of his situation was that he madly, desperately needed to wank. He abandoned his trousers and underwear on the floor, fled upstairs, ran into the shower and locked the door behind himself. His shirt was drenched in sweat; he peeled it off and threw it to the floor.   
  
Once in the shower cabin, he pressed his burning arse against the cool ceramic tiles of the wall, parted his legs and grabbed hold of his cock. It took him only a few strokes to finish himself off, and it ended up being like one of those furious, shameful wanks in his teen years that brought not pleasure, but a relief from tension and frustration.   
  
He shuddered, seeing a small puddle of come on the shower floor, and turned the water on. Even though he made sure the temperature was just lukewarm, he yelped out loud when the streams made contact with his sore buttocks. He reached back to touch himself there – his arse felt swollen and raw, but Potter had been careful enough and didn't break the skin.   
  
Severus showered, wrapped a towel around his hips, stepped over his shirt and went to his bedroom. He shut the door behind himself, crawled into bed and buried his face in the pillow. It was only late morning, but it felt like evening, and he didn't know what else to do but to lie in bed and try to sleep everything off. He half-suspected that he should go collect his clothes that he'd left scattered throughout Potter's house, but he didn't have it in him to get up and get out of the bedroom.   
  
He supposed he should have considered himself fortunate that Potter hadn't noticed his arousal.   
  
Severus winced at how much his idea of luck had changed over the past half a year. Five months ago, he was hoping to survive the war. Two weeks ago, he was hoping to be allowed to die in Azkaban without being sold off into indentured servitude. Now, he was counting himself lucky to have been able to hide his erection from Potter while being whipped.   
  
He snorted derisively and, before this bout of self-pity had a chance to turn into full-scale hysterics, allowed himself to fall asleep.   
  


* * *

  
  
It was dark when Severus finally woke up; he'd slept through the day without intending to do so. It didn't help much: he was still sore, groggy and miserable. Irrationally, he found himself wishing that Potter would come and knock on his door. He didn't know why he'd want that; he was certain that facing Potter now would be awkward beyond all measure.   
  
Severus stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he'd be able to fall asleep again, after having slept through the entire day. He heard Potter's footsteps behind the door and stilled, waiting. Potter didn't knock. Judging by the sound, something was placed on the floor behind the door and then Potter walked away.   
  
Severus got up, donned a dressing gown and crossed the room. He opened the door and saw his clothes: shirt, trousers, underwear, robe – clean and neatly folded; his boots, with socks inside them, had been brought as well. A tray with a glass of water, a mug of hot tea and a couple of sandwiches had been placed on the floor in front of his door.   
  
Severus picked up the pile of clothes and brought it inside the room. He took the glass of water as well, but left the tea and the food in the hallway; even though he hadn't eaten since morning, his stomach rebelled at the smell of food. He drank the ice-cold water, threw the pile of clothes on top of the trunk and crawled back into bed, wishing for sleep to have mercy on him once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Potter woke him the following morning by knocking on the door. Severus opened his eyes but made no sound when Potter called for him to come down for breakfast.   
  
The thought of food sickened him; he felt no hunger, just an overall weakness and sluggishness that made getting up an unattractive prospect.   
  
Potter knocked on the door again without saying anything else this time, not that he needed to. Severus found himself obeying anyway; the idea of being  _forced_  to come downstairs didn't appeal to him. He got up, got dressed, winced while putting his underwear and trousers on; his arse was still quite sore, although not nearly as much anymore and the swelling had gone down.   
  
When Severus finally made it downstairs, he found breakfast and coffee waiting for him. He sat down, doing his best not to flinch or squirm, and stared down at the bowl of hot oats that Potter had placed in front of him. He avoided looking at Potter altogether.   
  
“How are you feeling?” Potter asked, sitting down at the table across from him. Severus didn't answer.   
  
He wondered privately what would happen if he refused to eat, attempted to attack Potter, provoked him over and over again. Maybe he'd manage to force Potter to send him back to Azkaban. After all, it's not like Severus had anything left to lose, not after he'd ended up breaking the terms of his two-months deal with Potter. He wasn't sure what made him feel sicker: the thought of obeying and giving in, or the thought of repeated punishments at Potter's hand.   
  
“Snape!” Potter's voice broke through his morose ruminations. “Listen to me. The deal is still on. You've got less than six weeks left. You can do six weeks, right?”   
  
Not quite believing what he'd just heard, Severus finally looked up. It didn't look like Potter was gloating or laughing at him.   
  
“Right,” Severus whispered. Even giving this small reply felt too much like surrendering, but he didn't care anymore. He just wanted it to be over, all of it.   
  
Potter smiled at him, uncertainly but, it seemed, quite genuinely.   
  


* * *

  
  
Two more weeks went by. Severus stayed in his room, venturing out only for the meals. He spent the days in bed, reading and trying to sleep. It wasn't that he avoided Potter or was trying to stay out of trouble – he just didn't have any real interest left in anything.   
  
He should have felt relieved that his freedom was within reach, but the thought of it now frightened him. Probably because he was beginning to suspect that, even if he went free, he wouldn’t be really free of Potter. Potter continued to occupy his thoughts; Severus couldn't figure out the point of this ridiculous two-month-deal; not understanding was driving him mad, likely because he had nothing else to occupy his mind with.   
  
He couldn't really start making plans for his future life, either; he doubted he had much of a future anyway. Somehow, any idea of a future with a respectable job, new goals and accomplishments, new friends, simply broke down at the memory of Potter whipping him.   
  
He cringed when Potter knocked on his door. He didn't answer. Potter knocked again and again.  
  
“Snape! Are you alive in there?”  
  
Severus remained silent.   
  
“I'm going to come in and check on you,” Potter warned. The door opened a moment later and Potter walked in, stopping in the middle of the room. “You're alive.”   
  
“Obviously.”   
  
“Well, I'm sorry to barge in on you. It's just that – you're so bloody quiet these days...”   
  
“I thought you'd be happy,” Severus said indifferently.   
  
Potter shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly thinking something over.   
  
“Um. It's about five in the evening. I don't feel like cooking. I was thinking, maybe... we could go out for dinner?”   
  
“I'm not hungry.” He didn't even bother pointing out how ridiculous it would be for the two of them to go out together.   
  
Potter wasn't giving up, though. “Drinks, maybe? I know this Muggle place in Cardiff. The service is appalling, but the alcohol is great. And the view is spectacular.”   
  
“No, thanks.”   
  
Potter sighed. “Look, it's not good for you to be just stuck in the room day after day. I... I really want you to come with me.”   
  
“I heard you the first time,” Severus replied. “And I said no. What are you going to do now, Potter? Drag me out by force? Whip me until I agree to accompany you? What?”  
  
Potter seemed upset by that. “Of course not. I just... well, it'd make me happy if you came with me. That's all.”   
  
Severus snorted derisively.   
  
“Potter, give me one reason why I should  _want_  to make you happy.”   
  
Potter sighed. “I don't know.”   
  
“Then there you go. Have yourself a good evening.”   
  
Potter left his bedroom without saying anything else. Severus stared at the ceiling. The textured surface of it was yellowish, a few cobwebs had formed in the corners. He had no wand to flick and banish them. He had nothing, other than this bed, a few changes of clothes, the books that hadn't been destroyed yet, and Potter, who was now pacing the sitting room downstairs.   
  
Severus cringed again and got out of bed. He washed up, then decided to change his clothes; he didn't want to wear the same thing he'd spent the day in, lying in bed. He ended up wearing a pair of blue jeans and a turtleneck sweater that did an admirable job of concealing the metal monstrosity around his neck.   
  
When Severus came downstairs, Potter grinned at him from ear to ear.   
  
“You look nice,” Potter blurted out.   
  
Severus snorted derisively. “Potter, you don't need to make small talk. You're just as bad at this as you are at everything else. Let's go.”   
  


* * *

  
  
Potter Apparated them to Cardiff.  
  
The Muggle place Potter had mentioned turned out to be a ship-bow-shaped structure, all sharp angles and glass fronts. Severus smirked as he noted the name,  _Terra Nova_. Despite the hour, the place was far from crowded; then again, it was a Tuesday night. Severus sighed; while staying at Potter's home, he'd begun to lose track of days.   
  
Potter took hold of his elbow and skillfully navigated them onto a seating area on one of the balconies overlooking the bay. Potter had chosen well: they ended up being the only ones there, and Severus was glad not to be in a crowd.   
  
The waitress arrived, flashed Potter a brilliant smile and held up her notepad and pen in a battle-ready way that reminded Severus of Rita Skeeter. He hadn't heard that name in a while and wondered privately what had happened to her, where she ended up going after the war's end. In an odd way, he thought he might miss her. She'd been irritating, obnoxious, flashy and downright inconvenient – all the things that the new Wizarding World had no place for, or so it seemed.   
  
“What would you like?” Potter asked him softly. Severus shrugged, snapping out of his unhappy thoughts.  
  
“I really don't care,” he replied without looking at the menu. “I'm certain I'll hate anything you get me, so why don't you just pick something at random.”   
  
Potter sulked for half a minute, then proceeded to do just that, ordering two glasses of red wine and two chicken and leek pies. The waitress gave him another smile, this time sympathetic, and left.   
  
For a long while they were both silent.   
  
Severus turned around in his chair and stared down at the marina. The masts of the yachts were swaying back and forth barely noticeably across the quickly darkening sky. The water of the bay was reflecting the neon lights shining down from the other buildings in the Mermaid Quay.  
  
“I love looking at boats,” Potter said. It seemed he was talking more to himself than Severus. “Always wonder where they've been, where they're going.”   
  
“These ones aren't going anyplace far,” Severus pointed out dryly.  
  
“You don't know that,” Potter protested. “Some of them might be crossing the world tomorrow.”   
  
Severus didn't answer. The food arrived shortly and he had to admit, if only to himself, that he really was hungry, and the chicken and leek pie was better than anything Potter would have cooked at home.   
  
And speaking of Potter... he seemed genuinely happy now. Having finished his meal in a few giant bites, he leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs and sipped his wine. His eyes were half-shut in pleasure.   
  
“You look content,” Severus observed.   
  
“Mmhm,” Potter murmured, holding up his wine-glass. “I'm enjoying myself. Thanks for coming out with me.”   
  
“I'd have thought you would find this more enjoyable  _without_  me.”   
  
Potter shook his head, but said nothing in response. Severus watched him; Potter's face was perfectly composed.   
  
“You realize, don't you,” Severus made another attempt at irritating him, “that there are easier ways of getting a date than buying a forty-year-old Death Eater at a slave-auction?”   
  
This time, the corner of Potter's mouth twitched ever-so-slightly. “You're only thirty-eight. And you're a  _former_  Death Eater. And...” he fell silent, without finishing the statement.   
  
“And what?” Severus tried again.  
  
“And this isn't a date,” Potter said very quietly. “This is just... hanging out.” Potter opened his eyes and gave Severus a long, thoughtful look. “Seriously, thank you. I'm glad we got to do this before...” Potter's voice trailed off and he surveyed the marina, drowning in the evening lights, the yachts and the motor boats crowding the bay. “Before it's all over, before you take off and get out there. Just four more weeks.”   
  
“You'll really let me go?” Severus whispered. Potter didn't seem angry with him, didn't seem like he was out to exact revenge. Still, Severus had trouble believing him.   
  
“Of course I will,” Potter said.   
  
“Where would I go?” Severus almost winced at how pathetic and pitiful that question sounded, but Potter didn't seem to notice.   
  
“Anywhere you like,” Potter said. “There's a whole other world out there, a world without the Wizarding Britain's politics, a world without the post-war madness... and without me. You'll get out there and forget all of this like a bad dream.”   
  
“I doubt I will ever forget you,” Severus said sourly. “And I don't mean that in a good way, Potter.”   
  
Potter just chuckled. “You will. Nothing lasts forever. Not even memories.” He stood up and finished his wine in one long gulp. “Eventually you will forget me,” he said, and Severus thought he'd heard the smallest note of sadness in Potter's voice. “Shall we go home now?”  
  
Severus stood up as well.  
  
Potter paid the bill and together they walked out of  _Terra Nova_. Potter found a secluded corner in Mermaid Quay to Apparate them home. Soon enough they stood together in Potter's garden near his house. The sky above them was pitch-black; the porch light shone faintly, making the narrow paved path glisten in the dark.   
  
They walked towards the house together. Severus caught a glimpse of Potter's expression: Potter looked incredibly tired and lost somehow. Severus realized that it did not bode well for his mental state to be feeling sorry for Potter, but he couldn't help it. Then, as if noticing that he was being watched, Potter pulled himself together and gave Severus a cheerful grin.   
  
“You were right,” Severus surprised himself by saying. “It was good to get out. Thank you.”   
  
It took Potter a long minute to get over the shock of hearing that.  
  
“Um. I was wondering then, ah -,” Potter stammered, “would you mind doing this again?”   
  
Severus shrugged.   
  
“Well. It so happens that I'm not doing anything else over the next four weeks. So no, I don't mind.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Potter ended up taking him out every night after that. Severus found himself bewildered by Potter's imagination and energy. Potter took him out for beers in a run-down pub in Glasgow one night, the next, they were walking by the Southampton's Town Walls. Another night, they sat on the seashore in Dover and watched the ferries and cruise ships go by. The night after that, Potter brought them to a Muggle night club in London, where Severus stuck out like a sore thumb (not that he cared).   
  
Severus' internal clock was messed up in a spectacular way. Every evening they left home around five or six and returned well past three or four in the morning, then chatted until dawn. They didn't talk about anything significant, they didn't discuss the past, the war, or people they both knew. It was all about the food, the drinks, the music, the weather, and Severus found himself enjoying those meaningless conversations. He found Potter's enthusiasm and thirst for life contagious – it was as if Potter was soaking in every little detail, every nuance of those evenings, not willing to forget anything or let anything go. It was exhausting and exhilarating to observe.   
  
Severus ended up sleeping in daytime to wake up in the late afternoon or early evening, by which time Potter was ready to take him out again.   
  
Severus didn't know when Potter slept, or how much, and told himself that he didn't care. Potter himself definitely didn't care either – he seemed to be intent on living it up and partying every night like it was his last. Though Potter was far from selfish in all that, he seemed to really care whether Severus was having a good time or not. And, as much as it irked him to admit it, Severus was enjoying himself, although in a really bizarre way. In the two and a half weeks that followed their first outing, Severus ended up being entertained more than he'd been his entire life.   
  
He was bound to Potter, but his life was strangely free. He had no duties, no obligations, no debts. He had no expectations placed on him, either – not even an expectation that he enjoys himself. When Severus sulked (though it was rare), Potter didn't take it personally, just shrugged, grinned and said, 'all right then, let's do something else'.   
  
This kind of life – obligation-free, 'all taken care of', was odd for Severus. In a way, he felt like a kept woman or a catamite, except – no sex was required of him. He would have been tempted to think that Potter, in his own stupid way, was trying to woo him, but Potter had made it clear that those times out were not 'dates' and Severus saw no reason to question that.   
  
The only time Potter 'slipped' was one night, two and a half weeks later, when they had returned home together after a night of drinking in Edinburgh. Severus could hold his liquor quite well, but Potter was so shamefully drunk that he couldn't risk Apparating them without splinching. They ended up taking the Knight Bus back. Once they were dropped off at the gate, Potter swayed on his feet, nearly tripped and Severus caught him. Potter leaned forward even further and tucked his face into Severus' shoulder.   
  
Not quite certain what to do about that, Severus held him.   
  
“You all right, Harry?” Severus asked quietly.   
  
“I'm really, really good,” Potter mumbled. Severus ran a flattened palm down Potter's back. Pointy shoulder blades twitched under his touch and then Potter stilled.   
  
“Let's go home,” Severus said.   
  
“Okay. Sorry.” Potter withdrew, straightened out the best he could and began to walk towards the house, somehow managing to do so in a reasonably straight line. When they reached the doorstep, Potter turned around and grinned in a ridiculously happy way.   
  
“You know what? You called me  _Harry_.”  
  
“A momentary lapse in judgment,” Severus said dryly. “Don't get used to it.”   
  
Even as he said it, Severus knew that this was one battle he'd already lost. Somehow, Potter managed to become  _Harry_  in his mind, and he suspected there was no going back now.   
  


* * *

  
  
Severus woke up the following afternoon from the sounds of voices downstairs. He blinked, shook his head, banishing the remnants of sleep. He recognized the voices, Granger's and Weasley's. It startled him to realize they were here; over the past few weeks, Severus managed to forget that the world contained more people than just him and Harry.   
  
“Harry, you look like terrible,” Granger scolded. “At least get some rest tonight. The Malfoy trial is tomorrow!”   
  
“I know it is,” Harry conceded. “You don't need to remind me. I promise, I'll get plenty of rest, I'll be sharp. I've studied the evidence, I've read through the materials about the First and the Second Wars. It'll be fine.”   
  
Severus got out of bed and got dressed. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and stood still on the landing on top of the stairs, listening attentively. He didn't want to miss a word of that conversation.   
  
“I don't know,” Weasley sounded not particularly concerned, but doubtful. “I think the trial will be difficult. More to the point, are you sure you want to defend Lucius?”   
  
“Yes,” Harry said.   
  
Weasley continued to argue. “Yes, okay, I understand that Narcissa saved your life, and Draco is just a stupid prat and doesn't deserve being sold off to some creep for the rest of his life, but I still don't understand why you'd be bothered to help Lucius.”   
  
“For Narcissa,” Harry answered tensely. “Look, we've talked about this. She helped me; I owe her. I pay my debts. Always.”   
  
Granger replied something to that, but Severus didn't hear what. His gut was twisted by Potter's words beyond all reason, and he didn't have any rational thought left at that point. He came down the stairs and entered the living room where Potter, Granger and Weasley stood by the dining table, talking.   
  
The look on his face must have been murderous, because Granger instantly took a step back and Weasley stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and Severus. Severus barely looked at them; he stared at Harry without blinking.   
  
Harry gave him a faint smile.  
  
“Hey. I thought you were sleeping. What's wrong? Did we wake you?”  
  
Severus found his hand balling up into a fist.   
  
“You pay your  _debts_ ,” Severus hissed at him, marking the word  _debts_  with a special measure of loathing. “How noble of you, Harry. What about your debt to  _me_? How are you going to pay that?”   
  
“Look, we can talk about this later,” Harry said quickly.   
  
“What's there to talk about?” Severus shot back bitterly. He was shaking with fury, the realization that Harry would defend Lucius Malfoy before he'd speak for Severus was maddening. “You feel that you  _owe_  something to Narcissa for helping you once, in a completely self-serving way, I might add! But all the things I've done for you obviously mean less than nothing to you; you wouldn't even speak on my behalf without this ridiculous two-month deal you've forced upon me!”   
  
“What two-month deal?” Granger asked quickly.   
  
Harry flushed. “Hermione, later.”   
  
Severus smiled bitterly. “You haven't told her, have you? Why not, Harry? Are you, by any chance,  _embarrassed_  by what you're doing?” He was fully aware that he was making an ass of himself in front of his former students with this ridiculous tantrum, but there was no stopping now.   
  
“Told me what?” Granger demanded. “Harry, please, what's going on? What is that deal?”   
  
“It's nothing!” Harry cried out desperately. “I'll tell you everything later, now, please, go home!”  
  
“Coward,” Severus spat out at him. “I've met many despicable people in my life, but none so cowardly as you.”   
  
Harry shrugged. “Fine,” he muttered tiredly. “Whatever.”   
  
This dismissive  _whatever_  of his pushed Severus over the edge. Without thinking, he took a swing at Harry, fully intending to punch him in the face, but the tingling of the magic in his collar came next and Severus found himself frozen in mid-movement, his fist still clenched.   
  
He heard Granger gasp quietly, he heard Weasley mutter something, but couldn't make out the words. Severus' face was burning with shame as he stood immobilized, his complete helplessness made fully obvious to all of them.   
  
Harry acted quickly. “Ron, Hermione, let's go. I mean it.” He ushered his friends out of the house and left with them as well.   
  
As soon as the door closed behind them, Severus found himself being able to move again. He shuffled over to the couch, sat down and hugged his body with his arms. His mind has cleared by now enough to realize that he'd accomplished absolutely nothing by his tantrum, other than make himself look fully ridiculous before Granger and Weasley, too.   
  
Severus sighed. The pointless showdown had drained him; trying to confront Potter was like talking to an inanimate object. Or worse – Potter was  _animate_  enough, human enough in all things, except that one blind spot that had to do with Severus. Potter seemed to be ready to let bygones be bygones where the Malfoys' role in the war was concerned, but had no qualms about extracting some sort of perverse  _payment_  from Severus for – Severus didn't even know what. Not that it mattered. Potter would do whatever he already decided to do; he seemed hell-bent on making Severus 'serve' the two months before releasing him; this much was a certainty.   
  
Severus reached to touch his collar – he could feel the tingling from the magic running through it, a reminder of his 'transgression'. He stretched out on the couch and shut his eyes, trying not to think about what would happen when Potter returned home.   
  


* * *

  
  
Severus didn't get any sleep or even rest. Harry was gone for several hours, probably giving Severus time to calm down. Severus spent most of that 'cool-down' time staring at the blasted chair near the dining room table, the chair that he had been bending over when... when Potter whipped him the first time.   
  
He didn't understand why he'd lost his cool this way. He had less than two weeks left until Potter set him free, so why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut and wait it out? He'd managed to do that just fine while in Voldemort's service, no matter how great the provocation. Even with Dumbledore, Severus never threw hysterical fits like that. But somehow, Potter managed to push his buttons the way the two greatest wizards of the century never could, and Severus wasn't able to refrain from screaming, threatening, demanding... demanding some sort of acknowledgment from Potter... and earning himself yet another whipping.   
  
Severus cringed. He couldn't imagine going through  _that_  again. This time, it seemed immeasurably more humiliating, because he and Potter had already managed to interact in an almost friendly way, as equals. To have that stripped away, be reduced to almost nothing again – he suspected he wouldn’t be able to  _be_  anything but 'nothing' after that.   
  
Then again, Severus' life seemed to be following a rather familiar script: whenever he thought his situation couldn't get more demeaning, something invariably came up to demonstrate the opposite.   
  
He heard the front door open. He sat up on the couch and stared down at the floor. Harry shut the door and approached, sank onto the couch next to him. For a while they simply sat quietly, shoulder to shoulder.   
  
“How are you doing?” Harry asked.   
  
Severus shook his head. He wanted to demand answers, ask why Harry was doing this, why Harry wasn't letting him go, why he was insisting on the two months of servitude, but the question never left his lips. He'd asked that before, and he received his answer; 'because I can'. Severus knew he should have believed it when he heard it, rather than try to think of any other reasons for Harry handling him that way.   
  
“Are you this irked that I'm helping the Malfoys?” Harry asked softly. “I didn't think you hated them.”   
  
“I don't,” Severus confessed. “I'm – I'm glad you're speaking for them. I just...” His voice trailed off and he didn't finish the statement. It wasn't as if he could admit that he was just stupidly jealous that Harry would be treating  _them_  with more consideration than he was giving Severus.   
  
Harry sat up straight and began pulling his belt out. Severus looked away.   
  
“You know what to do,” Harry said quietly.   
  
Severus flushed, shook his head. “I can't. Not this time.”   
  
“There's no other choice,” Harry pointed out.   
  
“There is. Send me back to Azkaban.”   
  
“If I send you back, you won't go to Azkaban. You'll go back to the auction.”   
  
“I'll end up back in Azkaban in no time at all. Nobody will buy me,” Severus said.   
  
“Someone might. Someone might buy you and really hurt you. Even kill you.”   
  
“I'll take that chance.”  
  
“ _I_  won't. I won't give you up to them. And I won't harm you.” There was a note of finality in Harry's voice and Severus could tell that no further arguing would help.   
  
“Get up,” Harry ordered, folding the belt in his hands. There was no shadow of regret or uncertainty in his tone now. “Don't make me force you.”   
  
Severus found himself unable to move. The mental image of himself bending over that chair again, exposed before Potter, was followed by the familiar sweet heaviness in his groin that made him want to curl into himself and hide.   
  
“Snape!” Harry's voice rose a few notches, became more forceful, sending another jolt of shameful excitement straight to Severus' cock. “Now, please.”   
  
“I...” Severus stammered over his words, flushing even further. “No. Let me lie down.” He didn't even care that it sounded like begging; he couldn't bear the thought of Potter seeing that he was getting a hard-on from all this.   
  
“All right,” Harry said, rising to his feet. Severus stretched himself out on the couch and buried his face in the rough fabric of upholstery. Without waiting for orders, he reached down under his belly, unbuttoned his trousers, slid them down to his knees. He then lifted the hem of his shirt to expose himself further. He stretched his arms by his sides in a desperate attempt to do as much as possible to hide his arousal; his cock felt hard enough to puncture the cushions. The friction against the fabric of upholstery was maddening; he lifted his hips slightly to escape it. The last thing he wanted to do was come on Potter's couch while being whipped; he knew he'd never be able to live that down.   
  
When the belt struck for the first time, Severus wasn't prepared for it. He groaned out loud; he'd forgotten just how much it'd hurt the first time. He felt his butt-cheeks coming aflame, and his groin slammed into the couch with the force of the blow, the sudden contact bringing some relief to his aching cock. Mortified to find himself beginning to rub against the couch, knowing he needed to stop, Severus lifted his hips up again in an obscene display, as if begging for another lash.   
  
Potter seemed to be not inclined to pity him. He belted Severus again and again, setting a steady, measured pace, and Severus found himself yielding to it in spite of himself. It still hurt like hell, his eyes were beginning to water, his arse was on fire, but his mind was too foggy for him to get a grip on himself. He may have moaned out loud a few times, he wasn't certain; he was moving automatically now, lifting his hips and collapsing back against the couch with every lash of the belt.   
  
Potter struck him one last time, the scalding blow falling across the already-formed welts. Severus flinched, hissed as the heat of that final lash went straight to his cock. It was too much, just too much, and before he knew it, Severus was coming, his come spurting out onto Potter's couch.  
  
He shuddered one last time and stilled. Slowly, the fog in his mind cleared, and it finally dawned on him that he now had to get off the couch, and Potter would see everything,  _know_  everything. Severus buried his face in the cushion. He held back a sob and felt Potter's hand on his back.   
  
“Are you all right?” Potter asked. Severus didn't say anything, freezing under his touch. “Snape?”   
  
Severus felt Harry's hands take hold of his shoulders, guiding him to sit up. Mindlessly, Severus followed this wordless direction, his welted arse coming in contact with the couch. Harry looked him over. Severus shuddered. His eyes were damp, his trousers and underwear were dangling around his ankles, and his now-deflated cock was covered in come. He didn't make another move; even scrambling to cover himself up seemed like it would only add to the humiliation.   
  
“Snape,” Harry whispered.   
  
Severus shut his eyes and hung his head in defeat. He didn't know how he could face Harry now. He couldn't think of anything that would make  _this_  bearable, either.   
  
He did not resist when he felt Harry's hand on his chin, making him lift his head. And then, he felt Harry's breath against his cheek. A moment later, Harry's lips covered his.


	6. Chapter 6

Bewildered by this sudden turn of events, Severus nonetheless kissed back, latching onto Harry's mouth. Harry moaned into the kiss; his tongue parted Severus' lips and Severus didn't think to resist. It was an escape of sorts, a way out of the humiliating dead-end, and Severus took it without looking back.   
  
Tentatively, uncertainly, he stretched out his hand to touch Harry's groin. Harry thrust forward, the bulge in his jeans pressing into Severus' palm. Severus found not a small measure of vindication in that; at least he wasn't the  _only_  deviant here. He pulled out of the kiss and began to unzip Harry's jeans. Standing in front of him, Harry straightened out and allowed Severus to do just that. A moment later, Severus was treated to the sight of Harry's long cock, fully erect, the head moist with precum.   
  
“Oh god,” Harry whispered. Still sitting on the couch, Severus stared up. Harry looked as mindless and fogged with lust as Severus had felt a few minutes ago. Severus slid down to kneel in front of him and took that cock into his mouth.   
  
For a brief moment Severus was viscerally aware of what exactly he looked like: a scrawny forty year old man with a welted arse, his trousers pooled around his ankles, a collar around his neck, kneeling before an attractive youth to suck him off. That mental image lingered for only a second, then vanished without a trace when Harry moaned again and thrust forward with another 'oh god'.   
  
Severus did his best to suck, but it wasn't an easy task; he found his lips stretching and his mouth struggling to accommodate all of Harry's cock. Harry groaned out loud in frustration and took matters into his own hands, grabbing hold of Severus' head, tilting it at just the right angle and beginning to fuck his mouth. Control taken away from him once more, Severus did his best to simply relax his throat and allow it to happen. Harry fucked his mouth fast and hard and did not last all that long; a minute or so later he came so deep in Severus' throat, Severus didn't even taste any of it.   
  
Harry pulled away, with one abrupt move lifted Severus to his feet and kissed him again, greedily and almost desperately. Harry's hand went around Severus' waist, slid down his back and stroked his sore arse. Against all reason, Severus found himself beginning to get hard again, as if he hadn't come just a few minutes ago.   
  
Harry yanked Severus shirt off, guided him to step out of his trousers, and gathered him into a tight embrace, so that Severus' half-hard member was pressing against Harry's thigh.   
  
“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered into his ear. “I'm so sorry for everything.”   
  
Severus gave a dry bark of a laugh at that. “It's a bit too late for 'sorries', don't you think, Mister Potter?”   
  
“I guess you're right,” Harry muttered. “What do we do now?”  
  
It took Severus all of five seconds to come up with a suitable answer.   
  
“Now, we fuck.”   
  


* * *

  
  
When they made it upstairs to Severus' bedroom, Harry hugged him again. For a while they stood locked in a tight embrace, Harry still fully dressed, Severus buck-naked, nothing but his collar on. A part of his mind that was still at least somewhat sane screamed in protest at this unequal situation, but his cock, firmly poking Harry's jean-clad thigh, didn't seem to mind it in the slightest. Harry's hands roamed Severus' back, stroking it in soothing up-and-down motions.   
  
“What do you want?” Harry asked softly.   
  
Severus almost groaned out loud at the question. The welts on his arse were aching, throbbing; he wanted to be touched _there_  so much, it was maddening. He moved his hips, needing more – more friction, more burning, more pain even, more of whatever that had made him come in the first place. Harry seemed to understand without words; his hands slid down and caressed Severus' buttocks, fingers tracing the angry weals. Severus threw his head back and moaned in shameless self-abandon; he couldn't remember anything ever feeling so good.   
  
“Yes,” he whispered. “Like that.”   
  
“Oh,” Harry murmured with a ridiculously happy smile on his lips. “Get on the bed then.”   
  
Severus complied instantly, crawling onto the bed, scooting towards the headboard, getting down on all fours and lifting up his arse in a silent invitation. Harry followed him shortly. His head bowed, Severus could see Harry shifting behind him, and fully expected Harry to simply grab hold of his hips and begin to fuck him, just like that, without any preliminaries. But Harry did something else instead. He proceeded to lie on his back, moving over so that his head was placed between Severus' legs. Harry's hands gripped Severus' sides, guiding him to straighten out and sit up, straddling Harry's face. Severus did. The head of his cock was now resting on Harry's lips; Harry stuck out his tongue and licked it. Severus groaned out loud, desperate for  _more_.   
  
For a while Harry teased him mercilessly. His fingertips stroked Severus' welted buttocks lightly, fleetingly, his tongue ran along Severus' now fully erect cock. His frustration mounting, Severus found himself thrusting back and forth, torn between wanting to be groped and wanting to be licked. Eventually, when he thought he couldn't take any more teasing, Harry took pity on him. Severus gasped when Harry opened his mouth and sucked his cock in. At the same time, Harry's hands took hold of Severus' abused buttocks, gripping them firmly, pulling them apart and squeezing them together. Completely lost, aware of nothing but Harry's fingers digging into his welted arse and Harry's mouth sucking him, Severus continued to thrust wildly, furiously, not mindful of Harry's comfort, not caring of anything but being able to come. An impossibly long minute of the mad thrusting, and Severus found himself coming violently, flooding Harry's mouth with release.   
  
Harry swallowed it all, seeming to be quite happy to do so. He patted Severus' butt one last time and guided him to get down. Severus complied, stretched out on the bed next to him. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus, drawing him into another inescapably tight hug. Severus shivered, feeling Harry's lips on top of his head. He rested his cheek against Harry's chest; he could  _feel_  Harry's heart thumping wildly, as if it was him and not Severus who'd just had one of the most exhilarating orgasms of his life.   
  
Severus stretched his hand to reach for Harry's groin. Harry's jeans were still unzipped, and his erection was sticking out of the fly.   
  
“We have a problem, it would seem,” Severus noted, giving Harry's hard-on a firm squeeze.  
  
“I wouldn’t call it a problem,” Harry quipped, sounding a bit breathless, lifting his hips up to meet Severus' hand.   
  
“Oh. So you don't need any assistance?”   
  
“Um. I didn't say that.” Harry buried his face in Severus' hair and inhaled deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough of Severus' scent. “So, uh...”  
  
“I'm a humanitarian,” Severus declared solemnly. “I will render whatever aid I can to a suffering population.”   
  
Harry laughed out loud happily, cheerfully. “Okay. Uh, if you're thinking what I'm thinking, I don't know if I have any lubricant...”   
  
Severus thought about it for a moment. “How about that ointment you'd used on me the first day?”   
  
“I have some of that, yes,” Harry agreed, “but I don't think it's meant to be used that way.”   
  
Severus turned his head and licked Harry's chin. “Well then, we just won't tell anyone, will we?”  
  
Harry laughed out loud, released Severus from the embrace, reached to pull out his wand and summoned the jar with the ointment. When Severus saw it in Harry's hands, he twitched involuntarily, remembering his first night in Harry's home, more than six weeks ago. It seemed incomprehensible how everything became twisted and turned inside out, not that Severus was complaining.   
  
“So,” Harry mused, opening the jar, “um. It does say, not for internal use.”   
  
“That just means you aren't supposed to eat it.”  
  
“Eww. Who would do such a thing?”   
  
“You'd be surprised.”   
  
“All right, if you're sure...”   
  
Severus was; he turned over to lie on his belly. He sensed Harry move; Harry settled between Severus' parted legs and began to stroke his buttocks, tracing the welts with his fingers.   
  
“Do they hurt?” Harry asked.   
  
“It actually feels good,” Severus said grudgingly. “Do it again, harder.” Harry's fingers dug into his swollen butt-cheeks and Severus groaned at the shameful pleasure of it. Encouraged by that, Harry toyed with his arse a bit more. Then, Severus felt Harry's tongue, licking along the welts. He whimpered out loud; Harry bit down on one of the welts and began sucking on it. Severus parted his legs even wider, feeling warmth building up in his groin again. He couldn't bloody believe it; he'd never gotten hard so many times in a row with so little respite between them. Then again, whippings had never been a part of his sexual activity before, either.   
  
Harry's slick finger making its way inside his rectum took Severus by surprise. He bucked involuntarily. Harry used his free hand to hold Severus down, continuing the licking along the welts on his arse and finger-fucking him at the same time. A moment later, two of Harry's fingers entered his anus, and Severus lifted his hips up, impaling himself on Harry's digits.  
  
“More?” Harry asked.   
  
“Yes. Now.” He almost choked on those words when Harry curled his fingers to make them glide over the prostate.  
  
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He shifted to change his position slightly, took a hold of Severus hips, guiding him to stand on all fours. Severus complied. When the head of Harry's slick cock pressed against the ring of his anus, Severus pushed back at once. Harry breached him quickly, effortlessly, sliding into him. The friction of the penetration was a delicious burn that Severus couldn't get enough of. He groaned, bearing down on Harry's cock until it was buried fully within him.   
  
“Move,” Severus half-begged, half-demanded.   
  
Harry did, pulling nearly all the way out, then thrusting forward once more. Severus adjusted his position slightly, wanting another impact against his prostate and succeeding in attaining it.   
  
“Just like that,” he approved. “Don't change the angle, just fuck now.”   
  
“Right,” Harry whispered, sounding quite mindless.   
  
The fucking began, fast, hard and brutal, Harry pulling out and thrusting back in, hitting Severus' prostate spot-on with every thrust. Harry's jean-clad thighs slammed into Severus' sore buttocks over and over again. Severus groaned appreciatively, feeling his arousal building up again, slow, but steady.   
  
Harry was fucking as hard and fast as anyone could go, his hands never leaving Severus' hips. Severus made no protest; he didn't know if he could come again, just from being fucked, without any direct stimulation to his cock, but he was more than willing to try.  
  
“Oh god,” Harry blurted out. A split-second later, the head of his cock pressed against Severus' prostate, and Severus could feel Harry coming inside him. That alone pushed him over the edge, practically forcing an orgasm out of him.   
  
Harry collapsed on top of him. He could feel Harry's chin pressing against the collar around his neck.   
  
“So good,” Harry murmured.   
  
“Mmhm.” Severus could barely catch his breath. Exhaustion claiming him, all he could do was mumble, it seemed. Harry climbed off him and settled to lie by his side. Harry's flushed cheek pressed against Severus' shoulder.   
  
“I don't want to go out tonight,” Harry whispered.   
  
“I don't either.”   
  
Severus turned to lie on his side and stare at Harry's face. It was reddened and sweaty; his lips were still swollen from sucking Severus off. Severus saw a small dab of his own come in the corner of Harry's mouth and lifted it off with his finger. Harry opened his mouth to grab Severus' finger and suck it clean before releasing it.   
  
“I say,” Harry murmured, “why don't we order Indian food for dinner, then... call it a night. Go to bed early.”   
  
“Sounds like a good idea,” Severus agreed. “Do you think the bed can handle it?”   
  
Harry snickered.   
  
“It'll have to. It's got no choice.”   
  


* * *

  
  
About an hour later, the food was delivered and they were getting ready to eat. While walking to the kitchen, Severus had made a move to pick up his clothes from the floor of the sitting room, but Harry intercepted him.  
  
“Stay naked,” he whispered in Severus' ear. “I want to watch you. You're hot.”   
  
Severus muttered an obscenity under his breath, but allowed the shirt to drop back to the floor. Truth be told, walking around in the nude with Harry ogling him was exciting in a deviant sort of way.   
  
He entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, squirming slightly when his sore arse made contact with the wooden seat of the chair. Harry followed him shortly, took some time to molest him, and then proceeded to set the table for dinner.   
  
Severus looked at the styrofoam containers with butter chicken, chicken korma, lamb vindaloo and basmati rice; there was also naan bread, wrapped in tinfoil. He was slightly surprised at the amount of food – Harry had ordered enough to feed six people, if not more.   
  
“This way you'll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow,” Harry explained, “and we won't have to worry about dinner, either.”   
  
Severus smirked. Harry didn't say anything else, but it was quite clear how he was hoping to spend the evening tomorrow.   
  
When they finished eating, Harry brought out and cracked open a bottle of blackberry port. They took their time drinking it and talking. They talked about the past few weeks. All the nights they had spent out began to blur in Severus' mind into one fuzzy whole; he'd begun to forget where exactly they drank what, or where they had heard what music. Harry, on the other hand, remembered everything to the smallest detail, as if he was unwilling to forget anything about those evenings and nights. Eventually, the conversation came to an end.   
  
Harry finished the rest of his port, leaned back in his chair and smiled. Severus watched him; Harry was a picture of contentment. He looked satiated – in more ways than one. Harry noticed being watched, and his smile grew bigger.   
  
“I'm so happy right now, it's unreal,” Harry whispered. Harry's voice, however, didn't quite match his words; there was that faint node of sadness back in it.   
  
Severus didn't know what to make of that. Having his Legilimency suppressed vexed him; he studied Harry's face for clues to what was really on his mind. It was no use.   
  
“Well,” Severus said finally, “we're both tired, though. I doubt I can handle any more eating, drinking or fucking. Let's call it a night.”   
  
“Mmmhum,” Harry murmured. “Can I sleep with you?”   
  
Severus snorted. “What kind of nonsensical question is that?”   
  
Harry's ear-to-ear grin was back. “I'll take that as a  _yes_.”   
  


* * *

  
  
Once in the bedroom, Harry jumped on the bed and pulled Severus along, making him lie down and hugging him. Severus allowed it; it was pleasant and comfortable enough, other than the fact that Harry was still fully dressed and seemed to be in no hurry to get naked.   
  
“Potter, if you're going to sleep in my bed, take your clothes off,” Severus muttered, tugging on Harry's shirt. “Or I'm going to suspect that you're hiding some sort of hideous physical deformity.”   
  
“Like what?” Harry asked, appearing mildly affronted by the insinuation.   
  
Severus yawned. “I really don't know. Maybe you have leprosy. Or a hairy butt.”   
  
Harry snickered quietly. “What would be worse?”  
  
Severus gave it some thought. “Either would be irritating. Though, leprosy, at least, I could cure.”  
  
Harry burst into laughter at that. Still laughing, he unbuttoned his shirt, threw it on the floor and went to unzip his jeans. Lifting himself on the elbow, Severus watched him curiously, greedily. Harry really had nothing to be embarrassed of: he was nicely built, had a pleasant, healthy complexion and, all jokes aside, just the right amount of body hair.   
  
Colour rising to his face, Harry squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
“Oh come now,” Severus said, “it's a bit too late to be blushing like a virgin.”   
  
Harry's cheeks grew even pinker.   
  
“A few hours too late, yeah.”   
  
Now it was Severus' turn to double over in laughter. “You... you... no, I don't bloody believe it, you...”  
  
“Shut up!”   
  
“Potter, you've got to admit, this is the most fucked up way ever to do it the first time.”   
  
Harry turned his head to stare at Severus. The look on Harry's face was odd: half-annoyed, half-amused, and fully affectionate.   
  
“Stop making fun of me and come here,” Harry said, pulling Severus into another embrace. Severus moved closer to lie on his side with his back settled against Harry's chest. Harry shifted slightly, drew the duvet over both of them and nuzzled Severus' shoulder.   
  
“Nice,” Harry mumbled.   
  
“Mmhm.” The skin-to-skin contact was pleasant, but not in the mind-warping way their other activities had been. It brought a relaxing, somnolent warmth with it, and Severus found himself getting drowsy. Harry, however, seemed in no mood to allow him to fall asleep. A moment later, Severus felt Harry's fingers on his nipples, stroking and tweaking.   
  
“Potter – for fuck's sake. Haven't you had enough?”  
  
“Just one more time! Please?”   
  
Severus muttered a resigned 'fine' just as Harry's hard cock found its way into the cleft of his arse. He shivered, feeling the thick head press against his obscenely stretched out anus. Harry found just the right angle and slid into him slowly, all the way, until Severus' sore buttocks were resting on top of Harry's bare thighs. Just as slowly, Harry began to pull out, and Severus found his rectum squeezing around Harry's cock to increase the friction.   
  
Harry moaned his approval and began to thrust at a torturously unhurried pace. Severus moved with him as much as his position allowed him, pushing back, grinding his arse against Harry's thighs. Harry laughed quietly but was in no hurry to speed things up. It went on and on, agonizingly slow and luxurious, the burning and the friction delicious, but not nearly enough to result in an orgasm.  
  
Mindlessly, Severus brought his hand to his own now erect cock to stroke himself, but Harry clasped his wrist to stop him.   
  
“Don't,” Harry whispered in his ear. “Don't rush it. I'll make you come, I promise.” With a groan, Severus complied and permitted his hand to be guided away. “Lift up your leg, bend it in the knee,” Harry whispered, “yes, like that.”   
  
In and out, Harry began to thrust again, at the same time fondling and stroking Severus' balls. Severus pushed back, trying to speed things up. It was no use: Harry was going at his own pace, continuing to tease and withhold attention from Severus' cock. Severus groaned, stretched out his arms and grasped the metal bars of the headboard just to keep himself from wanking.   
  
And it still continued. Whenever Severus thought he couldn't possibly handle any more of the buildup without release, he was proven wrong, over and over again. He cried out when Harry came inside him. At the same time, Harry's hand clasped around Severus' aching, engorged cock to give it a single firm squeeze. Severus did not just cry out, he howled this time, coming hard all over Harry's hand and calling out his name.   
  
Severus barely felt it when Harry's now deflated cock slipped out of his arse. He exhaled loudly, plaintively. His heart was racing and he couldn't catch his breath. Harry, his hands moist with Severus' come, held on to him.   
  
With some difficulty, Severus extracted himself from Harry's grip and turned around in bed to face him. Harry's eyes were tightly shut. Severus leaned in to kiss him. Harry kissed back, swiping his tongue along Severus' bottom lip, then biting down on it and sucking on it.  
  
Eventually, Harry pulled away and settled down, resting his head on Severus' shoulder. Severus pressed a kiss to Harry's sweaty forehead. Once again, Severus was bewildered by how much had changed in a course of a few hours. His tantrum in front of Granger and Weasley now seemed like it had taken place a lifetime ago. Then again, maybe that was the case.   
  
“You know, I'm not all that sleepy,” Harry muttered, but his words were caught in a long yawn. Severus chuckled. “No, really. I could go again in a few minutes. I think I could go all night.”   
  
Severus chuckled again. “I'm sure you could. You should sleep though. You've got a big day tomorrow, or so I'm told.” 


	7. Chapter 7

It was late morning when Severus woke up. The dim autumn sun was pouring into the bedroom window, making the hardwood floor light up with different shades of cherry-red. The smell of fresh coffee was in the air. Severus got out of bed, and, without bothering to get dressed, walked downstairs.  
  
Harry, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, was already fully – and formally – dressed. Severus looked him over: Harry's hair was neatly brushed, his boots were clean and shiny, and the crisp collar of his white shirt was a stark contrast to the black robe. Harry returned his gaze, glanced over Severus' naked body and grinned.   
  
“This is nice,” Harry said, bringing the mug with coffee to his lips and taking a sip. “Makes me want to stay home.”   
  
“Do it, then,” Severus offered. “Let the Malfoys rot. Stay here and pay attention to me.”   
  
Harry laughed out loud. “Tempting. How do I look?”   
  
“Fine,” Severus said and ran his hand over Harry's hair, making a mess of it.   
  
“Hey!”   
  
“You looked like an impostor with your hair brushed. The Wizengamot's security wards would have denied you entry.”   
  
Harry laughed out loud again and set the mug with coffee on the table. He took a step forward and took Severus' face in his hands before leaning in to kiss him. Returning the kiss, Severus found himself clinging to Harry, his erect cock pressing into Harry's thigh, leaving a trace of pre-cum on Harry's formal robe. Harry noticed it and pulled back with obvious reluctance.   
  
“I should go,” he said softly, giving Severus a long, thoughtful and slightly lost look. “It'll be a long day. I'll be back in the late afternoon or early evening. Anyway, you know where the food is, and...” Harry shifted on his feet, clearly not wanting to go anywhere.   
  
“Get out,” Severus said, giving him a small nudge to push him toward the door. “And come home soon.”   
  
Harry nodded and, without further deliberations, walked out of the house. The door slammed shut behind him. Severus sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the mug with coffee that Harry hadn't finished. He took a sip and shut his eyes. It seemed obscene to feel so relaxed and happy while sitting buck naked in Harry's home, doing nothing but waiting for him to come back, and yet – Severus was happy. He couldn't understand it, and he didn't care to, either.   
  
Severus set the mug on the table and lifted his hand to touch his collar. Odd. He'd almost forgotten it was there.   
  


* * *

  
  
He spent the day not doing anything, just like most of his days since Harry had bought him. This time it was different though: he didn't roam the house restlessly and aimlessly, wanting to be let out. Nor did he spend the day lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He read, he showered, he ate without waiting for Harry and stretched out on the couch to read some more. He never bothered getting dressed.  
  
His arse was still mildly sore, but it was a pleasant kind of soreness now, and whenever Severus sat down, or went to lie on his back, he was reminded of those welts and became aroused. He didn't wank though, deciding that he'd save the energy until Harry got home.   
  
All in all, Severus was enjoying himself. He didn't think he could handle a lifetime of living naked at Harry's place and doing nothing, but the week and a half of 'servitude' remaining didn't seem like a hardship.   
  
He fell asleep on the couch in the sitting room, the book he'd been reading resting on his chest.   
  


* * *

  
  
He woke up from being kissed and touched. He felt fingers on his head, stroking, carding through his hair; he felt lips on his cheeks and forehead, pressing gently, fleetingly. Severus opened his eyes and turned his head to come face to face with Harry, who was sitting on the floor next to the couch.   
  
“Missed you,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing against Severus' mouth quickly. There was an uncertain, needy quality to Harry's touches and kisses, as if he was afraid to apply too much pressure and discover that Severus wasn't real.   
  
“Good to have you back,” Severus said, turning to lie on his side and giving Harry's shoulder a small squeeze. “How did it go?”  
  
“The trial went well,” Harry said. “Though mind you, it dragged on and on. The Malfoys were acquitted. They left the country. Hermione helped get them out.”   
  
“Really?” Severus smirked at the mental image of Granger ushering the Malfoy family out of Great Britain. He never thought he'd live to see the day when Granger, of all people, would be helping them.   
  
Harry noticed his expression and smirked as well.   
  
“Uh. She still can't stand them. Lucius, especially. But I think she hates the current government even more.”   
  
“I can believe that,” Severus mused. “Why did the trial take so long?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “They were asking all kinds of questions. Wanted to know everything there was to know. That Tom Riddle diary thing,” Harry twitched slightly, “nearly landed Lucius in Azkaban, or on the auction block.” Harry frowned. “Sometimes I think it was a bad idea to tell people about Horcruxes once the war was over. I thought it was the right thing to do, you know. But it just ended up feeding into everyone's hysteria. People are creeped out. They're seeing Horcruxes everywhere.”  
  
“Are they now,” Severus whispered.  
  
“Uh-huh. Stupid.”   
  
“Hmm.”   
  
“Now, for the good news,” Harry continued, “your trial is tomorrow. I managed to speed things up.”  
  
Startled, Severus sat up on the couch and stared at Harry.   
  
“So eager to get rid of me, Potter? Was I really this much trouble as a slave?”   
  
The corner of Harry's mouth twitched slightly.  
  
“I thought you'd be happy.”   
  
“I am. I just feel the need to ask, what happened to change your mind?”   
  
“You happened, Snape. You always happen to me, you know,” Harry answered in a resigned kind of way.   
  
Severus bowed his head. He didn't know what to make of Harry's response.   
  
“And what of my penance?” Severus asked. “I thought I had another week and a half left.”   
  
“Oh, yes. That.” Harry sighed. “I really am sorry, you know. You didn't deserve that. The two months of waiting for me to defend you. But then again, I'm not a nice person, and you've always known that.”   
  
“It was rather petty of you,” Severus said. “You're an arse.”   
  
“I am,” Harry said unapologetically. “You angry with me?”   
  
“Yes,” Severus admitted freely. He didn't think of the two-month-deal much anymore, but whenever he did, it still irked him terribly.   
  
Harry smiled briefly, mirthlessly. “I thought so. Want to have sex anyway?”   
  
“Yes,” Severus said at once.   
  
Harry grinned at him from ear to ear. “Brilliant.”   
  


* * *

  
  
They were back in the bedroom, with Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, Severus standing before him, fully naked, arms hanging by his sides. Harry's gaze felt almost as palpable on his body as a touch would, and Severus found himself getting hard just from being stared at.   
  
“I wonder,” Harry mused, “what should I do with you?”   
  
Severus smirked. “Would you like ideas?”   
  
“Maybe,” Harry blushed slightly.   
  
Severus turned around, his back to Harry. He brought his arms behind his back and folded them, imitating the box-tie position he'd been restrained in while at the auction block, the palm of each hand touching the elbow of the other arm.   
  
His back to Harry, Severus couldn't see Harry's face, but he was certain he heard Harry's breath hitch.   
  
“Like that?” Harry asked. “But... that was painful, wasn't it?”   
  
“Just don't leave me in that position for too long,” Severus said, “and I'll be fine.”   
  
Harry didn't need to be asked twice. He flicked his wand and uttered an incantation. A split-second later Severus felt conjured ropes slither around his arms, binding them together, then connecting to the o-ring in the back of his collar to form a harness. He tugged at the bonds; they were snug, inescapable.   
  
“Oh god,” Harry muttered. “I think I could come just looking at you.”   
  
“Don't you dare. And don't you dare wank.”   
  
“I won't, but... that's hot. Turn around."

Severus did, finding it awkward to move. But the tightness of bondage, combined with him being naked and on display, got him from half-hard to fully erect in a matter of seconds.   
  
“Just look at you,” Harry whispered. “I'm lucky they didn't display you like this at the auction. I'd have a bidding war on my hands.”   
  
Severus squirmed at that mental image. It hurt to squirm; it even hurt to flinch: the rope harness held his bound arms in a tight cocoon, forcing a rigid posture without any movement. He straightened out and held his head high. His balls felt heavy, his cock ached.   
  
Harry got up and approached him. Severus shut his eyes, giving himself over to the sensations. For a while there was nothing but touch: Harry's hands on his chest, stroking; Harry's tongue on one nipple, then the other, licking; Harry's fingers on his arse, scratching the fading welts from yesterday.   
  
“More,” Severus whispered absently, mindlessly.   
  
“More what?” Harry asked, licking Severus' neck along the edge of the collar.   
  
Severus exhaled into Harry's messy hair. “Whip me.” He felt his cheeks growing hot with the shame of that admission. If Harry began to argue or pity him, or told him he couldn’t do it, Severus wasn't sure he'd be able to live down the embarrassment. But Harry did none of that.   
  
His eyes still shut, he heard Harry take a step back, then unbuckle his belt. Severus parted his legs and held still. The first lash left a fiery streak across his buttocks. He groaned out loud, the rope harness forcing him to remain still. More blows followed and soon Severus lost track of just how many. Heat was spreading through his buttocks and thighs, twisting his groin into a sweet-heavy knot of pleasure, making him flinch and, as much as his rigid posture allowed it, stick his arse back out to meet the belt.   
  
When he began to think he could come just from being whipped, Harry stopped. Harry's hand rested on his arse, squeezing and kneading roughly. A moment later, Severus felt Harry's fingers in his hair, forcing his head back.   
  
“You like this, huh?” Harry asked hoarsely. “Get on the bed, now.”  
  
* * *   
  
Severus complied. His vision fogged; he could barely see where he was going. He would have stumbled if not for Harry guiding him, making him kneel up on the bed, Severus' arms still folded and bound behind his back.   
  
Harry crawled onto the bed as well. Lying on his back, he lifted his hips to slide out of his jeans and underwear. Severus stared down at Harry's cock, perfectly erect, head moist with precum. Harry summoned the jar with ointment he'd used the other day and proceeded to apply it to his own cock. Just the sight of Harry stroking himself, lubing himself up was enough to make Severus squirm again and regret it instantly as the unforgiving ropes continued to grip his arms.   
  
“Get over here,” Harry demanded. “Ride my cock.”   
  
Severus obeyed enthusiastically, if awkwardly. He crawled forward, straddled Harry's hips. Harry's hands took hold of Severus' waist, guiding him down until he was bearing down on Harry's cock. Severus groaned, rotating his hips to adjust to the intrusion. Harry's palms slipped down to cup Severus' sore arse-cheeks and spread them apart. With a loud gasp, Severus forced his way down all the way, impaling himself on Harry's cock in one desperate move. It burned like a son-of-a-bitch, and for a long minute, he just sat on top of Harry, his welted buttocks resting on Harry's thighs.   
  
“Move,” Harry ordered him.   
  
“A moment,” Severus whispered, attempting to adjust to the sensation of being filled. He could feel Harry so deep inside him, it was almost too much. He didn't think he could take any more – of anything, any more movement, any more friction, any more of that fullness. He didn't think he could move.   
  
Harry wasn't going to have any of that. “Now,” he said sternly, giving Severus' thigh a harsh slap. “Move. Ride my cock.” Harry thrust his hips upwards.   
  
Biting down on his lip, Severus began to move. The sensation of Harry's cock sliding out of him felt even more a violation than the former intrusion. Gritting his teeth, he moved up some more, so that only the head of Harry's cock was still in his arse.   
  
“Good,” Harry whispered breathlessly, taking hold of Severus' waist one more time, guiding him back down. “Do it again.”   
  
He slid back down, impaling himself on Harry's cock one more time.   
  
“Good. Faster!” Harry commanded. Harry's hand reached Severus' nipple and pinched it, hard.   
  
He groaned, struggling to obey, the forcefulness in Harry's voice, mingled with approval, driving him. A moment later, he found himself riding Harry's cock, grinding against Harry’s thighs. Harry met every move of his with a thrust of his own.   
  
The harness binding Severus' arms behind his back made it impossible to assume a more comfortable posture and fully adjust to the thrusting. This forced helplessness made every thrust feel deeper, harder, sharper and sweeter, somehow. When Harry reached for his nipples again and pinched them, it pushed Severus over the edge. He came with a loud gasp, his semen pouring out onto Harry's belly. He barely noticed Harry coming inside him.   
  
Harry didn't take any time to bask in the afterglow of his own orgasm. He reached for his wand, releasing Severus' arms from the bindings. Severus collapsed to lie on the bed face down. He let out a contented sigh when Harry moved to sit on top of him, straddled his hips and began massaging his aching shoulders and back. He felt Harry's lips on the back of his head.   
  
“So good,” Harry whispered into his hair. “It was the best thing ever.”   
  
“Best thing ever,” Severus grumbled, feigning displeasure. “Enjoying your conquest, are we now?”   
  
“As if,” Harry snickered, then added, more seriously, “no, someone like you can't be conquered.”   
  
Severus moved his sore hips from side to side, enjoying Harry's weight on top of him. “I'd have thought my current position clearly demonstrates the opposite.”   
  
“Hah. Very funny. No, but honestly, I reckon that a man who can learn to wank to his worst nightmare is pretty much unconquerable.”   
  
With those words, Harry climbed off and stretched alongside him. Severus turned to lie on his side, facing Harry. Harry's looked – not quite happy. He seemed almost lost again, but clearly struggling to put a brave face on things.   
  
“You know, tomorrow it'll be all over,” Harry mused.   
  
“What?” Severus asked automatically and then remembered, the trial. “Oh. I take it, I won't be allowed to attend?”   
  
“No,” Harry said. “But it'll be all right. I'll tell them everything. I'll show them your memories. They won't be able to argue with that.”   
  
Severus studied Harry's face. “You haven't told anyone about that before?”   
  
“No,” Harry answered. “Only Ron and Hermione know I've got the proof that you're innocent. But even they don't know the details. They don't know what I'd seen in your memories.” Harry's lips twitched slightly to form a sad smile. “It'll all change tomorrow. Tomorrow, you'll be everyone's hero... and someone will come here to let you out, set you free, apologize and all that.”   
  
“Someone,” Severus mused. “But not you?”   
  
“No,” Harry whispered. “Not me.” Harry's voice faltered slightly. “I, uh, won't come back here after the trial. You should leave, by the way. That's my advice. Get out of the country, no matter what they say. Make a life for yourself someplace else. Things are really fucked up here, and will stay that way for a long time, I imagine.”   
  
“Hmm.” He was surprised by how much the thought of Harry's impending departure twisted his heart. He took a deep breath, tried to make sense of Harry's words and couldn't. Somehow it never occurred to Severus that  _this_  would end after him being set free. Harry avoided looking at him. “Too bad,” Severus said softly. “Would have been nice.”   
  
Harry didn't answer. He just moved closer to Severus and buried his face in Severus' shoulder. Absently, Severus lifted his hand and ran his thumb along Harry's spine. Like a cat starved for attention, Harry arched his back out to meet his hand. For a long time, Severus continued to stroke Harry's back, until Harry relaxed under his touch.   
  
“Don't let me sleep in tomorrow morning,” Severus asked, kissing the top of Harry's head. “Wake me before you go.”   
  
Harry said nothing. He was breathing deeply and evenly into Severus' shoulder, lips, half-parted, still pressed to his skin, in a sleepy kiss that never quite happened. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

It was still early when Severus woke up. He stretched out his arm, searching for Harry, and found the bed next to him empty.   
  
The house was quiet. There was no smell of coffee, no squeaking of the floors, nothing to indicate that Severus wasn't alone. He froze, as something suddenly dawned on him, as if a piece of puzzle that had been eluding him unexpectedly presented itself and clicked into place in his mind.   
  
He swore profusely, leapt out of the bed and sped down the stairs, naked as he was, cursing himself for taking too long. Taking too long to catch up to what had been going on around him, taking too long to wake up. In the space of ten seconds that it took him to reach the living room, his mind had conjured a dozen of scenarios that all had to do with him missing Harry before he'd left.   
  
He let out a long breath of relief when he saw that Harry was still there. Fully dressed, wearing his formal robe once again, he was standing in front of the living room window. Harry's arms were folded on his chest. He wasn't moving, just staring through the window into the grey 'out there', where, above the thicket of the green shrubbery, above the fence and the roofs of the neighbors' houses, the morning sky was turning the faintest shade of pink.   
  
Hearing Severus' footsteps, Harry turned around. His face was composed and calm.  
  
“Good morning,” Harry said quietly. “Sorry if I woke you.”   
  
“You didn't,” Severus forced those words out through gritted teeth.   
  
“Oh. Well, good morning anyway. How do I look?”  
  
Severus stared at him.   
  
“Tell me, Potter, are you naturally this stupid, or are you just playing the role of the village idiot really well? I'd like to know.”   
  
Potter stared back. “I really have no time for arguments now. I should get going. You know, the trial and all.”   
  
“Really!” Severus snapped. “Please tell me again, how exactly are you planning to defend me at the trial?”   
  
“I'll tell the truth, all of it,” Harry said. “I'll show them your memories.”   
  
“The truth, all of it,” Severus intoned venomously, his voice rising with every word.“With the post-war hysteria all around you, with people seeing Horcruxes everywhere and destroying  _anything_  that had been indwelled by Voldemort, you will just come out and fucking  _tell them_  that you'd carried Voldemort's soul fragment  _inside you_  for sixteen years! How – remarkably and stunningly stupid! Just how long do you think you will remain  _alive_  after that admission? No, even you aren't that much of an imbecile, you must realize they won't let you leave the Wizengamot's building alive after you tell them that!”   
  
Severus was practically shouting now, and Harry took a step back. He bowed his head and bit his lip stubbornly, but, Severus saw, there was no surprise on Harry's face.   
  
“Of course you realize that,” Severus spat bitterly. “Now this ridiculous two-month deal finally makes sense. You wanted to delay my trial and make sure you got the Malfoys off the hook first, because, after you spoke for me, you wouldn't be in a position to defend anyone. You'd be gone!” And more than that, now Harry's behavior finally made sense, too, especially his desperate attempts to squeeze as much  _life_  into the last two months as possible.   
  
Harry finally lifted his eyes and gave Severus a small smile. Severus didn't know whether to pity the fool or shake him.   
  
“Why did you not just bloody talk to me and tell me everything from the start?” Severus demanded.   
  
“Because I was trying to avoid a scene...”   
  
“Just like the one we're having right now? Excellent job, Potter, truly well done!”  
  
“Because I knew you'd be fighting me on this,” Harry continued, undeterred. “And what would be the use? There's really no other way. You need to go free, and – that's all there is to it! Besides, I might still be okay; it's not like it's a sure thing that they'll kill me the moment they find out that I used to be a Horcrux! They might just put me in St. Mungo's and run tests on me or something...”   
  
“You obviously don't rate your chances of survival very high, since you've all but said your goodbyes to me last night! And tried to sneak out on me this morning!”   
  
Harry shrugged sullenly. “Look, I don't want to argue about this. It's pointless. There's no other way.” Harry's wand was now in his hand and he began to walk towards the door.   
  
Without deliberation, Severus lunged at him, crossing the distance between them in one giant leap. He ripped the wand out of Harry's hand and tossed it all the way across the room. The wand struck against the bookshelves, fell to the floor and rolled under the couch. Harry spun around to go after it, but Severus grabbed hold of his shoulders and slammed him against the wall.   
  
“You aren't going anywhere,” Severus hissed at him.   
  
The look on Harry's face was first angry, then bewildered.   
  
“You weren't supposed to be able to do that,” Harry muttered, staring down at Severus' collar. “That thing is supposed to keep you from attacking me.”   
  
Severus didn't even think of that until just now; but now that he did, it made perfect sense to him.   
  
“That thing,” he brought his chin down to touch the edge of his collar, “is charmed to respond to my mental state, my intent, as you may remember,” he explained with no small measure of smugness in his voice. “It clearly recognizes that I'm not trying to escape or harm you; on the contrary, I'm trying to keep you from doing something remarkably stupid, if not deadly.”   
  
Harry gave a small grunt at that, and made a move to extract himself from Severus' grip. Severus pushed back, slamming him back into the wall.   
  
“As I said,” Severus continued, calmly this time, “you aren't going anywhere, except the kitchen, where you're going to sit down, shut up and listen to the voice of reason. Which, incidentally, would be me.”   
  
For a while they stood frozen in a silent face-off, Harry, fully dressed in his formal robe, his back against the wall, Severus, fully naked, holding him firmly in place. Eventually, Harry relaxed in his grip and gave a resigned sigh.   
  
“This really sucks,” Harry complained. “Even your slave collar is against me.”   
  
“Pity,” Severus said unsympathetically. “Anyway, shall we talk?”   
  


* * *

  
  
In the kitchen, Severus sat down and pointed to an empty chair across the table cluttered with dirty coffee mugs and dishes. Harry sulked, but sat down as well, his expression remaining sullen and defiant.   
  
“This is pointless,” Harry said again. Severus looked at him thoughtfully without saying anything. “We both know that I need to do it!” Harry's voice rose a bit; he was clearly getting annoyed by Severus' silence. “What! Why are you staring at me? You wanted to talk, so talk!”   
  
“It's all Dumbledore's fault, you know,” Severus mused tiredly at last. Harry opened his mouth, clearly to say something nasty in response, but Severus lifted his hand to stop him. “You see, Potter, when an impressionable youth is raised like a pig for slaughter, pardon the expression, he doesn't know how to  _be_  anything else. He continues to play the role of the martyr even when there's no need for it. Even when there are other options, options that do not involve martyrdom.”   
  
Harry stared at him grimly. “So what are you suggesting, Snape? That you remain my slave indefinitely, just to protect me and keep my little secret a secret?”   
  
Severus sneered at that. “Don't flatter yourself, Potter, I don't like you that much.”  
  
Harry threw his hands up in the air. “All right, I give up. What do you want me to do?”   
  
Severus leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “If I just tell you what to do, you won't learn anything,” he said in his best 'nasty teacher' tone. Quite predictably, Harry scowled at him. “Allow me this experiment,” Severus said coolly. “I just want to see if you still have a brain. As a matter of fact, I want you to generate five different options that do not involve you placing whatever passes for your head on the proverbial guillotine. You've got five minutes.”   
  
“Um,” Harry scrunched up his face, clearly at a loss. “I really...”  
  
“Identify the problem first, look for solutions second.”   
  
“Uh. Okay, well.” Harry's gaze rested on Severus' collar. “I guess I could study spell creation and design a custom spell that would charm your collar off. Hermione could help, and I'm sure you could teach me the theory of spell creation, right? Then – we run for our lives and get the fuck out of the country. But – creating that sort of spell would take months! Fuck, it could take a year!”   
  
“But not a lifetime,” Severus pointed out.   
  
“No,” Harry agreed softly. “Not a lifetime.”   
  
“Good. Next option?”   
  
“Uh. We could try to generate some bogus story for the Wizengamot,” Harry said uncertainly. “Something that doesn't involve telling them absolutely  _everything_. I mean, that would involve making sure the new story holds up if I'm ordered to take Veritaserum...” Harry gave Severus a calculating look. “You know a way to bypass the effects of Veritaserum, don't you?”   
  
Severus smirked. “I just might. That's two options already. You're doing well.”   
  
Harry brightened up.   
  
“Um, the third option would be… well, it's a bit crazy, but, I guess I could get in contact with one of the Ministry officials, someone who can actually charm your collar open. Place him under Imperio, get your collar off, then run like hell.” Harry smiled uncertainly. “It's risky and I don't like using Unforgivables. But it's an option.”  
  
“It is,” Severus agreed, “and not a bad one. Please, continue.”   
  
“I'm not sure what else I can think of,” Harry said, scratching his head. “I think I'm out of ideas.”   
  
“So soon?”  
  
“Well, yes.” Harry shrugged apologetically. “Sorry.”   
  
Severus gave him a thoughtful look.   
  
“You realize, don't you, that you're defining the problem exclusively in personal terms?”   
  
“Hm?” Harry stared up at him with surprise. “Uh. Oh, that. Well, yes, you know, I realize that what's going in the Wizarding Britain right now is wrong. And your situation is just a part of it. And the Order members are trying to speak out against it, change things, calm the hysteria. But it's difficult to be heard these days, and change takes time.”   
  
“Maybe it wouldn't take as much time if you became active as well and added your voice to theirs,” Severus suggested. “You have a lot of influence.”   
  
“I don't know about that,” Harry muttered. “I don't think anyone will care about what I have to say.”   
  
“You've managed to get the Malfoys acquitted. In the current political climate it's nothing short of a miracle. People still listen to you. For now.”   
  
“Maybe,” Harry muttered. “But that was just one case. Big changes still take time. Lots of time.”  
  
“Yes,” Severus agreed. “That's certainly true. There are, of course, always shortcuts.”  
  
Harry sighed. “We actually talked about it. The Order met a few months ago to discuss the possibility of a...” Harry hesitated, and his voice trailed off.   
  
“... military coup?” Severus supplied helpfully.   
  
“Yes. But Kingsley said it wasn't right. We have a legitimate government; it's not right to turn the Order into a terrorist organization. Stuff like that.”   
  
“I wonder if he still thinks so, now that the Ministry started treating human beings as commodities regulated by the Department of Hazardous Goods and Materials,” Severus mused.  
  
“I don't know,” Harry admitted. “I haven't spoken to him in a while.”  
  
“Because you were too busy wallowing in self-pity and romancing me every night,” Severus pointed out. “Alternating the romance with whippings. How unconventional.”   
  
“Shut up.”   
  
“Not that I'm complaining. It was a unique experience.”   
  
Harry hung his head in resignation. “Look, I'm sorry. It was stupid. I should have talked to you from the start.”   
  
Severus waved him off. “No matter. You now have five options, ranging from 'break the collar and run like hell' to a military coup. What are you going to do?”   
  
“What do you think we should do?” Harry asked right away. “We're in this together, after all.”   
  
In no hurry to answer, Severus studied Harry's face. He could see Harry's eyes flashing with malicious excitement and realized that the decision had been already made. Severus found himself smiling. He wasn't surprised that Harry would pick the most dangerous option available. Harry saw his smile and returned it.   
  
“You don't mind?” Harry checked softly. “It'll be risky for both of us. I guess it's no surprise to you that I'd want to take part in a military intervention if one is planned, but what's in it for you?”   
  
Still smiling, Severus looked at him.   
  
“I suppose it will not shock you to hear me say that my motives are entirely personal. I want to live in a world that I'm used to. If I leave, I want it to be because I chose to, not because I had to run. And, quite significantly, every night I want to come home to a young enthusiastic lover who will peel my clothes off, tie me up and order me to ride his cock.”   
  
Severus was satisfied to see Harry's face flushing at those words. Harry stood up abruptly; the kitchen table shook and the dishes gave a plaintive jingle. A moment later he flung himself at Severus so forcefully the chair nearly tipped. Severus quickly leaned forward in the chair, restoring their balance and guiding Harry to straddle his lap. Harry, for his part, seemed to be unaware that they both had almost ended up on the floor, or perhaps he didn't care. He was busy kissing and licking, running his fingers through Severus hair, trying to insinuate his hand between the chair and Severus' back, trying to do a dozen things at once and not quite succeeding.   
  
Enjoying Harry's weight on him again, enjoying the scratching of Harry's robe against his bare skin, Severus returned those affections in a lazy, relaxed and carefree way that didn't match the whole life-and-death business that they had just dealt with, and that still wasn't finished, not fully. But somehow, he wasn't worried at all. The most difficult part – getting Potter to see reason – was done with. The rest was going to be easy. 


	9. Something Like An Epilogue: One Year Later

It took some getting used to waking up and knowing that it was all over: the Wizarding World was back to normal, Kingsley had been voted back in, and the 'indentured servitude program' was now a thing of the past. 

It took some getting used to the normal things in life, such as going out to Terra Nova every Tuesday night, sitting down on the balcony and watching the yachts in the bay. It was a little bit more difficult to adjust to Granger and Weasley tagging along on some of those nights, but Severus learned to tolerate even that. 

The only thing that Severus still couldn't quite get used to was waking up in the mornings with his wrists roped to the headboard of the bed and Harry snoring into his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around him as if to add to the bondage. 

Severus opened his eyes and tugged against the ropes. They didn't give. 

“Time to get up,” Severus said, arching his body up in an attempt to push Harry off his shoulder. It didn't quite work. Harry mumbled something disgruntled, moved his arm and tightened his grip on Severus. Severus groaned when he felt Harry's erection press into his hip. 

“Are you quite sure I'm not your slave anymore?” Severus mused and tugged on the ropes again. “The way you treat me, sometimes I wonder.” 

Harry slid off him and sat up cross-legged on the bed next to him. Severus stared up and waited. 

“Are you just mouthing off or do you really want to get up?” Harry demanded in a forceful tone of voice that sent the familiar shiver of arousal down Severus' spine. Over the last year Harry's gained more confidence, the kind that at one point he could only summon when he really needed to, or when he was one hundred percent certain that Severus was enjoying himself. Now, Harry was confident and forceful almost all the time, and Severus began to wonder if he had created a monster. Or maybe the monster had created him, Severus wasn't sure which. 

Harry's fingers took hold of Severus' chin, forcing him to tilt his head back slightly. “Answer me,” Harry ordered. 

“I'm just mouthing off,” Severus whispered, feeling his cock getting hard even as he yielded to that demanding tone. 

“Thought so,” Harry said, smirking. His thumb ran along Severus' lower lip, half-forcing his mouth open, but not doing anything beyond that. 

Seeing the wand in Harry's hands next, Severus thought he was about to be released. But Harry simply lengthened the ropes tying Severus' wrists to the metal bars of the headboard. 

“What...” Severus began to ask, but Harry didn't let him finish. Unceremoniously, roughly, Harry took hold of Severus shoulders and rolled him over to lie on his belly. “Oh.” 

“Hush now. No more complaining. Legs apart, butt up.”

Severus was slow in obeying, and Harry simply pushed his legs apart with his knee, took hold of Severus' waist and guided him to lift his arse in the air. Severus complied and stilled, waiting for Harry to get started. 

He heard a transfiguration spell being uttered, craned his neck and saw Harry holding a rod in his hands. It was about as thick as Harry's index finger and seemed somewhat flexible. Severus couldn’t help but wince at the sight. 

“Did I say you could look?” Harry scolded him. 

“No.” Severus turned away and pressed his forehead into the mattress. His buttocks clenched involuntarily when the tip of the cane ran across them, delivering a small tap here and there.

Seeing his reaction, Harry laughed softly.

“I wonder, is it true what they say? Does it hurt more when you tense up?”

“I can never tell the difference,” Severus muttered, disgruntled. “It always hurts like bloody hell either way.” 

Except, in all their playtimes, Harry had never used a cane on him before, and Severus wasn't quite sure what that was going to feel like. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to find out, either. 

The tip of the cane, tickling, caressed the cleft of his arse, tapped against his anus, causing it to contract involuntarily. Then the length of the cane rested across his butt-cheeks in a silent insinuation of what was to follow. Severus held still, aware of absolutely nothing but the contact of the cane with his arse and thinking nothing but 'that's bloody going to hurt'.

“Tell me you want it,” Harry's commanding voice jerked him out of that 'nothing' state of mind. 

“I want it!” The reply came automatically and brought with it the familiar hot wave of shame – or something very close to it – that quickly transformed itself into arousal. His cock fully hard now, he waited, without moving. 

The cane cut through the air and descended on his buttocks. He grunted at the impact; it was a sharper, more precise kind of pain than that of the belt's lash, and harsher, too, causing the muscles in his lower back to twist in violent protest. He moved his hips from side to side, trying to adjust to the burning spreading through him, trying to take it in, to accept it. He wasn't given time to do that; the cane struck again and again, rhythmically, relentlessly, causing him to be caught up in that insane rhythm, unable to do anything but go with it and react, bucking involuntarily with every stroke. 

His eyes were beginning to water, the burning continued to grow, and still, not willing to miss out on any of it, he stubbornly continued to push his arse back out time and again. 

He was so caught up in that mad back-and-forth bucking and flinching that he hadn't realized the caning was over until Harry's hands took hold of his inflamed buttocks and began kneading them, rubbing along the welts.

Severus exhaled loudly, painfully, not sure if he could take much more of anything, but wanting more just the same. His cock was so hard it ached; he parted his legs even wider in a silent invitation. 

Harry was in no rush to take him up on the offer. Instead, Harry's hand reached for Severus' hair, gathering a fistful of it and forcing his head back. 

“Are you going to mouth off to me again?” Harry demanded. Severus groaned out loud, still struggling to catch his breath. “Answer me.” Another tug on the hair, harder this time. 

“Depends,” Severus gasped. “Are you going to cane me each time?”

“I think so.”

“Then yes. I will definitely mouth off again.” 

Harry laughed, releasing Severus' hair, settling comfortably behind him and giving his sore arse a sound slap. “Brilliant.” 

Harry summoned a jar of lubricant. Severus moaned out loud when Harry's hands took hold of his butt-cheeks and pushed them apart. Harry's thumb entered his anus roughly and carelessly, stabbing inside only to deposit a glob of lubricant and withdraw a moment later. Another slap to the arse followed. 

“Your hole is still stretched out pretty good from last night,” Harry noted. “I think I like it this way.” 

His face burning nearly as much as his backside, Severus groaned unintelligibly. As much as he despised being treated as an object in real life, this sort of thing never ceased to excite him.

Harry pressed the head of his cock to Severus' anus, not-quite-sliding in just yet.

Severus tugged against the ropes still binding his arms to the headboard of the bed, and Harry took hold of his waist and pushed in quickly to sheathe himself within Severus in one brutal thrust. 'Hole stretched out' or not, that first thrust still burned in a wonderful way. Digging his elbows into the mattress to keep his balance, Severus pushed back as much as he could, until his welted arse slapped against Harry's thighs. 

It continued: the violent thrusting and no less violent pushing back, the slapping of skin against skin, Harry's fingers, digging into Severus' hips – until Severus gasped, coming hard, orgasm wrenched out of him. He was about to collapse face down on the bed, but Harry's hands held him, forcing him to remain kneeling up, while Harry continued to fuck him. Even now, after having come, Severus found he was still enjoying this: just the burn and the pleasure of penetration, and being forced to hold his position despite his exhaustion, being pushed beyond what almost seemed like the limit of what he could take. 

“You're hot,” Harry whispered, thrusting and leaning forward to lick along Severus' spine. Severus tugged against the ropes again, wanting nothing better than to be able to reach back with his hand, grab hold of Harry's thighs, push Harry into himself even deeper, even harder. All he could do was push back, as much as his position allowed him. It turned out to be enough; with a loud growl, Harry came inside him. 

They collapsed to lie on the bed together, facing each other. Harry had never put his glasses on that morning, and his gaze seemed even softer and milder than usual. His face was reddened and sweaty; the corners of his lips curled upwards to form a contented smile. Harry reached for Severus' forehead to brush the sweat-soaked strand of hair from his eyes, then stroked his cheek.

“Good morning,” Harry whispered, wrapping his leg around Severus' and pressing a knee against Severus' welted arse. 

“Feels like evening already,” Severus complained half-heartedly. “Now will you release me?” 

Harry's fingers ran along the ropes binding Severus' wrists. “I don't know if I should. You've been classified as, er, Hazardous Goods and Materials at one point. Maybe it's safer for everyone to keep you tied up permanently. ” 

“What nonsense,” Severus muttered, resolved not to show just how much that thought excited him. “I'm no threat to anyone. Just bloody look at me.” 

Harry yawned. “Well, in a way, you're responsible for overthrowing the former government. So... I don't know. I think you're still dangerous.” 

“Oh,” Severus muttered. He was beginning to suspect that he just might end up tied up for the rest of the day. It didn't irk him as much as it should have. “Well, if I'm dangerous, then you're... you're a criminal!” Severus stated, trying his best to feign wounded dignity.

“Me?” Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. “How's that?”

“When you were buying me, you told the Ministry Officials that I'm harmless,” Severus pointed out. “You, ah, willfully misrepresented the threat I was posing to the lawful government. Shame on you.” 

“I did no such thing,” Harry protested. “I told them you were mostly harmless. Not completely.” 

Severus smirked. “I suppose I can't argue with that.” 

Not that he wanted to. Pressing his lips to Harry's forehead, Severus shut his eyes, allowing himself a few minutes of blissful rest before the day began, and he was released from bondage – or not. But even that he didn't see becoming a point of contention, simply because he was enjoying whatever came his way these days. 

There was nothing left to argue about anymore, not really. He suspected it would take some time to get used to that, too.


End file.
